FEAR: Immortality
by LaffeeTaffee
Summary: Remember when F.E.A.R made you afraid to go to bed at night? In a world where Psions are military experiments, where scientists will stop at nothing to create the deadliest weapon, and where everything bends to the will of one organization, four Psions will test the boundaries of what it means to be truly evil. They will discover the most powerful weapon of all: immortality.
1. Chapter 1

There was no clock in the room. Not one that she could see anyway. She was glad for that. In class, she would stare at the clock for minutes at a time watching the little red arrow click slowly in a circle. One second… two seconds… three seconds… Her little hand cradling her head as she sagged lower and lower on her desk. Time seemed to slow down when she did that. It wasn't fair that when she was having fun, time rushed by like it was on fastforward. But when she stared at the clock it seemed to be staring back at her knowingly, grinding down its gears to a crawl. No, in this room there was only a glass pane and a monitoring station with a big screen. And streams of bubbles. Why was everything pale green…?

She must have been wearing contact lenses. Or some kind of goggles. Was this another one of father's experiments? She struggled to see past the glass pane. There was no one in the room. Perhaps they were monitoring her brain waves? She tested that theory, working her brain so that her mind seemed to reach out into the darkness. She could feel no one. For the first time in her life, she was completely alone.

Obviously the experiment was going poorly. No one at the monitor, no one it seemed even noticed she was awake. Usually there was at least one miserable doctor keeping a watch on her, shaking so badly that they would drop the clipboards they were holding. They were never allowed to touch her, or look her in the eye. Her powers were dangerous, that much she knew. But this was getting ridiculous. How could she, a little girl, hurt grown-ups?

She tried to move but everything was in slow-motion. Her body felt strange. It took her a moment to realize that she was suspended in green liquid, and the pane she had been looking through was the wall of a cryostasis tank. She chewed and tasted plastic. This was far more complicated than any of her father's previous experiments. She must have done something truly horrible to deserve this. Maybe if she knocked, he would hear her. She was tired and needed rest. If she was polite, he might even give her back Teddy.

She raised her hand through the liquid and tapped on the glass. In that moment of tapping, she froze with horror. Her hand. _Her hand_. It was different. Her fingers were longer and the knuckles more defined. Her nails had grown out like popsicle sticks. Veins rose across the back of her hand down to her arm like worms under her skin. What had they done to her?

A dark shape moved in front of the tank. Her fear faded for a moment as she noticed it. Someone had entered the room. She strained to see through the green haze. Short black hair, square glasses. Her father. In a mixture of panic and relief, she raised her other hand to pound on the tank, and her arm knocked against her stomach. She was taken aback by this new startling feature. Her stomach was big. Very big.

Her father had moved to the monitoring station, and was typing away. As she reached down to touch her stomach, her father's voice echoed through the green liquid.

"Alma… Alma honey…"

Her body had changed. The cryostasis tank… no. _No_. She screamed but only air escaped her mouth, frothing the liquid. The pane shook and the monitor trembled. She clutched her balloon of a stomach in one hand, fingernails scraping against her skin. She knew she was a monster. She knew she was dangerous. But this? Her fragile child mind struggled to make sense of it all. Babies… stomachs were where babies come from. But _she_ was still a baby. She had only just finished learning to multiply in school. How could she have a baby inside her if she was only a child? But as she stared down at her stomach, she noticed her long legs, her wide hips, and round breasts. This wasn't a child's body. This was a woman's body. And it was hers.

Her mind darted with panic. It crashed against the walls of the tank like a fish struggling to escape. Faintly, she felt her father on the other side of the glass. He was doing something that would harm her. He was regretting it. The room was going dark, and she fought to reach him. She had only seconds, and frantically repeated _why why why why?_ But the serum had already done it's job. Her mind shrank back into the tank, and her eyes closed. As her last ounce of strength left, her hand rested limp on top of her stomach, hands open as if she were cradling the unborn child.

She watched the green light slowly fade into a point in front of her. All the experiments, the isolation, the needles, the brainwave tests… monsters. They had taken away everything she cared about, and now they had done something even worse. This wasn't about her mind. It wasn't about control. This was about fear. Fear had driven them isolate and maim her. Her own father was afraid of her, so much that he was willing to abandon her.

"Father." She knew he couldn't hear her, but she felt a deeper, more satisfying warmth as she thought. "_You_ are the monster."


	2. Chapter 2

_Mobile tactical units stationed. Confirmation received from units: Tasty, Eagleye, and Point. Three minutes to engage._

"Twenty bucks says he's a Freak," said Spencer.

"For fuck's sake." Jin's electrified voice echoed through their earpieces. "This is a containment breach, not a god damn casino."

The audio crackled as Spencer chewed his gum. "Yes ma'am." He gazed across his assault rifle. "Seriously though," he said barely above a whisper. "A Freak with… four arms?"

Joe stared out the window at the small red dot that was Jin's laser sight, and flexed his hand on his rifle. It didn't irritate him that Spencer always tried pointlessly to engage him in ridiculous games. In fact, sometimes he felt that it made him belong in an otherwise awkward threesome. He wondered between him and Spencer who was Harry Potter and who was Ronald Weasley. If it wasn't for Jin, their partnership might have been a little less cliche, although she seemed to try as hard as she could to break the trio off at the groins.

The red dot shivered. "Point, I'm getting a black reading."

"You're gonna tell us that now?" said Spencer. "Sure hope it's not one of us."

Joe raised his rifle to his shoulder and turned back to the closed door of the apartment. It was a small landing, but the wide windows made the room seem a lot bigger. Through the windows, the sky was illuminated a deep red and purple, allowing just enough darkness for Jin's laser sight to be visible from the adjacent building. There'd been no noise from inside the apartment so far, but from Jin's description of the scene from her eagle's nest, at least one person was dead.

_Thirty seconds to engage._

"Be careful when you knock it in," said Spencer. Joe couldn't help but raise his eyebrow at him. Spencer shrugged and levelled his rifle. "Just saying. Four-armed Freaks are a first for me."

Joe moved silently closer to the door with quick, even footsteps. As he rested his back against the wall, he held his breath and listened for movement. Considering Armacham was shitting bricks when F.E.A.R deployed, the mission had been surprisingly smooth. No resistance at the gate, nothing at the elevator, and now it seemed the apartment was empty. He was half-tempted to simply open the door and peek in, but Jin's black reading was enough to keep him in check. Someone was going to die.

_Omicron, you are go for interception._

Joe leaned sideways and pushed the door completely open, immediately shouldering his rifle and gazing through his sight.

The hallway was empty. It would have been unremarkable with its classy wallpaper and potted plants if it wasn't for the red smear along the wall. Joe heard Spencer move into position behind him, and he stepped carefully over the landing. Visibility was poor. The hallway was narrow and opened into a living room with a couch. As Joe moved closer, he saw the blood stains in the carpet, and then a severed hand on the floor.

"Jesus…" he heard Spencer mutter behind him. "Didn't know a person could have that much blood."

Joe spun to face the kitchen as he neared the living room, but the kitchen was empty. He faced forward again, moving the gun left and right as he panned the room through his sight.

"Movement!" Jin's red beam appeared through one of the windows, aiming at something around the corner.

Joe instantly crouched low, finger on the trigger. He and Spencer sat frozen as Jin's laser crossed the room. Joe kept another mental finger on his psionic reflex, forcing himself not to imagine a multi-limbed monster suddenly darting into the hallway.

A faint whimper drifted in from the living room. Joe heard Spencer shift behind him.

"Is that… a little girl?" Spencer whispered.

It certainly sounded like one. Amazing that a child could survive in a situation like this. Joe creeped forward, hunched over his rifle, and slowly rounded the corner. He flexed his timing, taking what seemed forever to peer around the wall which in reality was a mere few seconds. As he did, the living room came into view. What was once a glass table was shattered into a million peices like diamonds on the floor. A flat screen television hung sideways on the wall, still sparking. And in the middle of it all, a tiny blonde figure stood over a mass of flesh, quietly sobbing with her hair in her face.

Joe raised his finger off the trigger as Spencer moved next to him. "We have visual," said Spencer.

The little girl raised her head. Her hair was matted to her cheeks as fresh tears streamed down them. Her flowery yellow gown was damp in spots, and the ends were crimson from being dragged in the blood. As she looked at Joe, her whimpering grew louder and she gasped words.

"This is Tasty," said Spencer, and Joe heard his voice crack. "Repeat, we have visual. But it's just… it's just a..."

_Target acquired. Dispatch Paragon unit._

Jin's laser flashed across the room. For a moment, Joe thought he'd used his reflex unintentionally. "Are they serious?" said Jin through the com. "Den Mother, target is unarmed. Repeat, target is unarmed. Request permission to subdue and apprehend ─"

_Dispatch Paragon unit._

"This is fucked up," said Spencer. "They really want us to kill a kid?"

The girl glanced left and right, mouthing a silent sentence. She scrunched her toes up as she sobbed, collecting blood under her feet. Joe studied her carefully. It wasn't impossible that she had killed whoever was now the bloody blob on the ground, but something told him that was wrong. She didn't have the look of a killer, even an accidental killer. He took a step toward her as he tried to hear what she was saying. Her voice grew steadily louder.

"... can't find… can't find… where are… not…"

"Den Mother, Eagleye disputes the order given," said Jin. "F.E.A.R is outfitted for subduing dangerous Psions, and subject is a child."

"I concur that shit," said Spencer. "Tasty also disputes."

_Dispute is irrelevant. Dispatch Paragon unit._

"What do you mean 'dispute is irrelevant?'" Jin's voice began to crackle again. "This is a violation of service!"

"... not here… she's not here…" Joe took another step, unwittingly lowering his rifle and looked at the girl over his sight. She stared at him with pink cheeks as her chest heaved. Her blue eyes were wild with fear. Joe doubted she was older than ten, and he hoped the military jargon was enough to confuse her about the situation. Even if she was Paragon and killed a person, she was no murderer. She was just looking for someone.

"... she's not here…" The girl raised her head slightly, and suddenly the fear faded from her eyes. "Mother."

The room lurched forward. Joe felt as though he were being sucked from his body. He was startlingly aware of Spencer drifting away next to him, as though he were made of ash suddenly caught in the wind. The walls fell away, revealing a black oblivion ringed with flames. He struggled to shout out, but found he couldn't speak or move. This had to be an illusion. But it was unlike anything he'd ever trained for. The girl was changing before him. She seemed to be drawing closer to him even though she wasn't moving. Her blue eyes─ no, not the frightened blue eyes he had just been gazing at. Fiery red light erupted from her eye sockets like torches, with impossibly large black pupils in the center. Her hair creeped slowly downwards, darkening from gold to deep black and tangling like a massive cobweb. The room echoed from every direction "mother mother mother" as though they were standing in a massive auditorium.

Joe gritted his teeth as he tried to move. This was bad on a whole new level. As the girl floated closer to him, his muscles began to shiver. He couldn't back away, couldn't raise his gun, couldn't even blink as she advanced. He shrank back in his mind, mentally curling into a ball. But her eyes seemed to pull him in, forcing him to acknowledge her soul-ripping stare. It was a violation on the most personal level. There was no telling what she planned to do with him, but he had a horrible gut feeling it had something to do with the mound of flesh on the floor. He had to do something quick. Something. _Anything._

Her mouth split into a horrifying toothy sneer and her eyes grew wider. "Mother has you."

A surge of energy bolted through Joe's body, and he frantically used his reflexes. She slowed for a moment, and the sound was oddly muffled. The sparks flashed slowly from the television as though they were caught in water. He only had a few seconds. With every ounce of his strength, he forced his rifle upward a few desperate inches, the barrel pointing at the girl's chest. It was good enough. He pulled the trigger.

For a terrifying moment, he thought the bullet missed. The shot was low and sounded more like an explosion. The girl's sneer hovered for a second, her eyes burning a mere few feet from his face. Then there was a sudden rush of sound, as though he were caught in a tornado. The girl disappeared from view, the light returned to the room, and Joe stared oddly up at the ceiling which seemed to spin.

"What the─ what the fuck!"

It took him a moment to realize that Spencer was staring down at him. There was a strange scrambling noise and Joe heard Jin's voice.

"What happened? Who took the shot?"

Joe instantly forced himself to move. Relief flooded through him as he raised himself onto his elbows. He flexed his hands and rolled his head on his neck. This was _his_ body.

"He shot her," said Spencer. "Point fucking shot her."

The girl was on her back, fresh blood pooling from underneath her. She was still breathing, but her throat was garbled. Joe sprang into action, snatching up his rifle and jumping to his feet. How the bitch could have survived a shot to the chest was beyond him, and he was taking no chances. However, as he stepped slowly toward her, he saw that her hair was blond and her eyes were blue. It wasn't the same girl.

"Den Mother, target is down," said Jin. "Target is down and incapacitated. Permission to apprehend the target."

"Delay that," said Spencer. He stood beside Joe with his rifle in the crook of his arm. "She's a goner."

The girl gazed up at them with glassy eyes, a dribble of blood forming a line from her mouth. Her lips were parted in a voiceless scream, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Joe couldn't help but feel guilt tug at the corners of his mind despite his caution. This wasn't the girl that attacked him. Whatever that had been was gone, and all that was left was this poor child slowly dying on the floor in front of him.

She locked eyes with him, and her eyes grew wide. Her mouth opened and closed in an attempt to speak.

"Tasty, I'm giving you an order to apply first aid," said Jin. "I don't care how wounded she is. If we can at least get─"

Joe raised his rifle and there was a thunderous pop as he fired a single bullet. The girl shuddered and froze, a fresh stream of crimson winding down from the penny-sized hole in her forehead.

He didn't need to look at Spencer to see the shock on his team-mate's face, and knew Jin probably had the same expression. He put a finger to his earpiece.

"Point," said Joe. "Paragon unit fucking dispatched."


	3. Chapter 3

It came again. This time so strong that Paxton had to lean forward on his bed with his fingers to his temples. He struggled to push it away, imagining a thousand tiny hands pressing against the walls of his mind and forcing the thoughts out. But bits of it leaked in like a crashing wave: a city of tall, glowing buildings─ a darkness on the outskirts─ twisted machinery like a dried flower garden of twigs and branches─ and a group of buildings. Storage buildings…

The images vanished, and Paxton realized he'd been shaking so badly that he'd woken himself out of whatever trance he'd been in. Sweat continued to stream down his face, and he heaved with each breath as if he'd been running. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. It wasn't the visions that bothered him. The training videos warned him that memories could leak back and forth during synchronization. But this was different. This had something to do with him. Something that he'd done a long time ago, and bad things happened. People died. Where were these memories coming from?

He forced himself to stand up, leaning against the raised bed for support. He had to focus or it might happen again. His room was barely large enough to pace from wall to wall, so he walked in circles instead, passing from his bed to the sink to the door to the toilet. The sweat dried from his face, and slowly his muscles began to relax. Feeling a bit more refreshed, he flexed his hands and breathed deeply. If only he had time to go into the yard before the appointment─

He felt a pang as he remembered. He had just enough time to look up at the clock before there was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Fettel? It's Dr. Habegger."

Just in time. Paxton tried not to think about what would have happened if Dr. Habegger had arrived while he was still having the visions. He ran a hand across his face one more time to be sure the sweat had completely dried. "Enter," he said.

The door opened with a slight creak that echoed in the steel room. Charles Habegger stepped through the doorway, white lab coat on and notebook in hand. He held the door open for his golden-haired assistant who kept her head down as she entered. There was a flash of blue as two men in body armor and holding assault rifles positioned themselves outside the door before it closed.

Paxton stood unmoving as Dr. Habegger leaned against the steel sink and thumbed through the notebook. The pages skimmed by and Dr. Habegger muttered to himself. "... March… April… May… here we are." He put his pen in the notebook and snapped it shut.

Paxton gave him a small smile. "Has it really been that long?"

"Sure has," said Dr. Habegger, returning his smile with more enthusiasm. "Doesn't feel like it, does it?"

Paxton tilted his head slightly. Dr. Habegger was making small talk─ something Paxton still struggled to apply. "I suppose having fun has a way of making time fly."

Dr. Habegger stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does." He folded his arms in front of him. "But the good news is you'll be ready for live-combat training next month, depending on how fast I can get the paperwork through." He waved his hand at Paxton. "And depending on how well your mental state holds up."

A small bubble of apprehension grew in Paxton's chest. "I'm really going to be a weapon?"

"Well…" Dr. Habegger shifted back and forth, and Paxton knew whatever he was going to say was a lie. "Armacham doesn't want to _use_ you, Mr. Fettel. This is more or less to see what you _can_ do. And remember that this is all strictly defensive training. No puppies or kittens harmed during the making." He smiled, and Paxton wasn't sure whether he should laugh or not. Dr. Habegger's smile faded, and he drummed on the notebook. "Anyway, I think it will all work out fine. You're the best Psion we've got at Armacham."

Paxton stared at Habegger's drumming fingers. "I'm flattered."

Dr. Habegger gave him a wink. "That wasn't a compliment, Paxton. Just professional observation." He flipped his notebook open. "Last time we had this meeting, you were a month into training. How are you feeling now?"

Immediately his struggles with the visions cropped up in Paxton's mind, but he stayed silent. Despite his rigorous mental training, something deep within him told him that this wasn't related to the project. Better to keep it a secret for now. "I suppose in your Layman's terms, I would say I'm feeling… fine."

Dr. Habegger nodded and there was scratching as his assistant scrawled on the clipboard. "No trouble sleeping or thoughts of suicide?"

Paxton paced and offered a small smile. "None more than I would think of other test subjects being used for military experiments." When Dr. Habegger looked at him wide-eyed, Paxton added "but no. Sleep is adequate and I quite enjoy living."

More scratching. "That's good," said Dr. Habegger. "Living is a good thing." He chuckled quietly. "Any mood swings or violent thoughts?"

Again, Paxton turned to him and opened his mouth to speak, a slight grin on his face. He thought the better of it. Clearly the doctor wasn't in the mood for joking. He shook his head. "None at all."

"Okay," said Dr. Habegger. He shifted his weight against the sink. "How about dizziness, trouble standing, fatigue, loss of appetite, nausea..?"

"Are all of these symptoms associated with synchronization?" said Paxton as he paused in front of the faded mirror. Dr. Habegger cleared his throat.

"Well, to be honest we're not sure what to expect," said Dr. Habegger. "As long as there's no change in your mental and physical health, there's really nothing to worry about."

Paxton nodded slowly, then resumed pacing. "In that case, the answer is no to all your questions."

"Alright," said Dr. Habegger. He leaned off the sink. "Then all I've got left is─" He waved his hand. "─if there's anything you wanna tell me?"

Paxton began to shake his head no, then stopped pacing. Maybe… if he was very subtle. He looked at the doctor. "I wonder. How has Armacham regarded my behavior lately?"

For a moment, Dr. Habegger simply stared at him. "You mean… what's your record look like?" Paxton nodded once, and Dr. Habegger folded his arms in front of him. "Well, if I remember, I think you've still got a clean record. I mean, compared to the other Psions, you've really kept control. It's one of the reasons we like you so much." He furrowed his eyebrows at Paxton. "Why? Is there something going on that you need to tell me?"

"No, not at all," said Paxton. "I was merely assessing the situation before I asked a favor."

"What's the favor?" asked Dr. Habegger.

Paxton chose his words carefully. He didn't want to sound too eager. "I was hoping I could visit a certain area. It's within Armacham perimeters but I would of course need an escort."

"You mean you want to go to Ward again?" said Dr. Habegger. "I forgot how much you like beaches."

"No, this is simply exploration you might say," said Paxton. "It's located on the southern edge of Fairport. Auburn, I believe it's called."

Paxton immediately realized he said something wrong. The room went unnervingly quiet, and although Dr. Habegger's expression didn't change, a glimmer of shock danced behind his eyes. When the doctor spoke, his voice was low and drawn. "Why do you want to go to the Auburn district?"

Paxton tried to look innocent. "I don't mean to instill blame, but I overheard Bill Moody's description. If I recall, it is one of the oldest districts in Fairport. I've never heard of this district and I've visited most of them, so naturally, it piqued my curiosity."

Again, the room was filled with strange silence. Even the assistant looked up in interest. Dr. Habegger slowly shook his head. "There's really nothing in Auburn district. Hardly any people and the area is mostly full of junk. It's really not worth visiting."

"It sounds… almost nostalgic," said Paxton. "What better way to engage in Armacham than to dig through its history?"

"This isn't the kind of digging you want," said Dr. Habegger. He moved towards the door. "Trust me."

This time it was Paxton's turn to narrow his eyes. "Doctor, if it is unacceptable for a Psion to visit the Auburn district, may I instead ask why?"

Dr. Habegger glanced at his assistant who dropped her head and began to scribble. He fidgeted with his notebook. "Mr. Fettel, I'm going to have your roaming privileges suspended."

A streak of apprehension shot through Paxton's body. He tried to hide it and tilted his head. "Why?"

"As your primary psychologist," said Dr. Habegger, and Paxton's anxiety grew at the doctor's change in tone, "I think you're a high-escape-subject, and I don't want you getting in trouble."

"High-escape?" said Paxton, taking a step forward. "I thought the conversation was about visiting, not a prison break."

"That's for me to decide," said Dr. Habegger. He had one hand on the doorknob. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fettel, but I think this is the safest thing for the next few weeks."

"Dr. Habegger─" Paxton took another step forward, unable to hide his exasperation. "Please, if I've said something wrong, you must understand that was not my intention." He felt his muscles tighten, and he began to sweat again. Weeks… alone in this cell… why hadn't he kept his thoughts to himself?

Dr. Habegger gazed blankly at him. "I'll be back next Tuesday to assess your mental health. Until then, I think you should forget about Auburn." He opened the door, and the armored gunmen stepped aside.

Paxton's breathing labored. "Doct─"

He was hit by a sudden, intrusive feeling. It was very faint, but so unusual that it made him freeze. He barely noticed as Dr. Habegger stepped outside. He couldn't have another vision. Not now. Not after Dr. Habegger was convinced that Paxton was somehow suspicious. But as the shock wore off, no images of the city followed; merely a feeling. He identified the feeling. Sympathy. Sympathy from who? He looked up as Dr. Habegger turned. It wasn't him. Dr. Habegger had no Psionic abilities and he was clearly focused on leaving. Then who…

He looked at Dr. Habegger's assistant whom he'd barely noticed before, and she locked eyes with him. For the split second that it lasted, it seemed they were the only two people who existed. Paxton's fear was replaced by surprise. How was this possible? A simple assistant? She couldn't be... but that feeling. Such sadness… for him…

She looked away and the connection was severed, as well as the feeling of sympathy. Dr. Habegger peered around the doorframe, and she ducked her head, quietly moving through the doorway and into the steel corridor. The armed gunman pushed the door closed with a resounding bang, and there was a loud click as the door was locked from the other side.

Paxton stood rooted to the spot, trying mentally to sort all what had happened. He felt as though he'd been through a storm. Dr. Habegger had no right to restrain Paxton to his cell. He'd done nothing wrong. What secrets did the Auburn district hold that would make Armacham so sensitive that simply mentioning it would land a man in solitary? There were already so many secrets. Secrets that Paxton knew only too well. If something happened in the Auburn district that had to do with him… but he could never ask about it now without risking permanent imprisonment, or worse.

The walls of his cell were nearly close enough for him to touch wall to wall. He gazed around as if looking for an exit, but the cell was designed for high security. He was stuck in here. The room grew even smaller the more he thought about it. If only he'd kept his mouth shut. He should never have put his trust in Dr. Habegger.

Paxton clutched the edge of his mattress, feeling hatred boil inside of him. He balled his hands into fists, and with a shriek low enough that the guards wouldn't hear, he threw his mattress sideways off the steel frame.

The fire within him slowly died down as he breathed heavily. Armacham had the power for now. The power over him and Psions like him, even if all the Psions were imprisoned. Yet he was becoming stronger every day, and soon the power would be in his favor. They weren't so much in control of Psions as they thought, especially with an unregistered Psion working as a simple assistant─

Paxton suddenly felt the anger wash from him. He straightened, a new but subtle hope giving him strength. The assistant…

The corner of his mouth rose slightly. He twisted and slid onto the metal frame, swinging his legs up and folding his arms behind his head. The hum of cold air rattled the grate above him, and outside it was dead quiet. The doctor wouldn't be back until next Tuesday. Paxton would have to learn to get used to this cell for another week. At least.


	4. Chapter 4

It was always cold down in the morgue. Jin didn't mind the cold, but somehow in that dark room, it had a way of getting into her bones. Perhaps it was the last Psionic signatures fading away from the corpses like stench, or maybe (and she had to admit it) dead people made her uneasy.

The overhead light cast long shadows over her as if she was in a spotlight. Her black hair was pulled back into a knot and she furrowed her eyes behind shiny goggles as she sifted through the unwoven layers of a bloodied brain in a bowl. Beside her on the table was the blond girl. Her head was oddly flattened and metal instruments held her chest open revealing the bony cavity within. Jin had already removed most of the girl's organs and placed them neatly in their separate stainless steel bowls. They were unremarkable, and she was tired of weeding out the junk so she skipped straight to the brain.

She set aside the dark brown brainstem, turning it over briefly to analyze it. Nothing so far. She moved on to the occipital lobe. It was more intricate than a normal human brain, with finely woven layers that seemed to blend into one another. It might have been peculiar, but Jin knew Psions often had more complex vision and sensation than normal people. The occipital lobe went into another steel bowl and Jin put her fingers into the domed frontal lobe.

Her arm went rigid. Shivers of energy shot through her fingers as if the mushy tissue were electrified. Jin gave her head a shake to clear her mind, but her vision went slightly fuzzy. Then with a jolt to the stomach, she realized she could hear something. It was very faint; as quiet as breathing. She pushed her fingers deeper into the tissue. The sound grew louder, and she could distinctly hear a girl's voice.

"... find him… find him…"

Jin leaned forward. The voice continued to grow louder, and the energetic sensations were beginning to numb her hand. It was impossible to tell where the sound was coming from now, and the darkness closed in around her.

"... find him… find him… _find him…_"

Jin drew in a deep breath. "Find who?"

Something moved in her failing peripheral vision. Jin bolted upright, her heart pounding. It was too dark in this room. She could barely make out the shapes of the steel cabinets and the cluttered countertops. She scanned the shadows for signs of movement, but everything was still. Her nerves were too shocked. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed her muscles and felt the tension drain from her body. She was getting too worked up about this. Frightening herself would only make the job harder. These were just signatures, after all.

As she stared ahead, a growing pit of dread filled her. It just occurred to her what she'd been looking at as she relaxed. There was a shadow in front of her. Small, shroud-like, and unmoving.

For a few agonizing moments, Jin stood completely frozen. She worked her brain, rationalizing the dark shape. It was definitely there, no matter which way she argued it. The figure was impossible to identify; simply flat and hunched a few feet from her, but its ominous presence convinced Jin that it was watching her every movement. Her eyes grew wide and she involuntarily began to tremble. This was something evil. And it hated her.

She had to move. She needed light. But if she did…

In one quick swipe, she flung her hand to the overhead light and jerked it forward. Light splashed against the reflective steel surfaces and created dramatic bars of darkness. The black shape was gone.

Jin immediately felt her face flush. A black shadow was something she definitely didn't need to deal with while she was alone in a room full of dead bodies. She shifted from foot to foot, debating whether she should radio for assistance. No. She rolled her shoulders and composed herself. This was her job. If she allowed fear to take control, she might as well hand in her badge and work in a nursing home.

But what did it mean? Why did the shadow appear when she touched the frontal lobe of the girl's brain? Jin looked down at her hands. She had removed her fingers from the brain when she grabbed the light. The voice was gone and so was the electric sensation. The room was unpleasantly empty again.

She closed her ebony eyes for a second as she thought. _Focus on the job_. She opened them and probed the brain again. A Psionic signature in the frontal lobe of the brain that wasn't the girl's own signature… had to mean that she was being controlled. The shadow had something to do with it. But who was it? Jin thought hard. The shadow wanted something. A 'him.'

And there was only one man she knew of that could fit into the puzzle.


	5. Chapter 5

"It just creeps me out. There's so many other hot women here and he's got to harass me. I'm not even in the same department as him! It just gets really old, you know? And I can't go to Harry about it. He'll just tell me to ignore him and he'll go away. God, men just don't understand what kind of position we're put in when a guy won't leave us alone."

Something about men. And understanding. Moyra looked deep into her own sage green eyes. Her golden hair was in its usual clip with strands falling loosely to her shoulders. She looked thinner than usual in her black sweater, the unbuttoned collar accentuating her collarbones, but that was the official assistant dress-code according to Charles Habegger. Greasy smudges marred her reflection from ladies who leaned too closely to the mirror in order to put on their mascara.

"But you know what's really creepy?" Sabrina re-applied glossy lipstick in the mirror. "I've been finding cheesey crumbs all over my desk this last week. That fat prick has been going through my stuff while I'm away. He's probably seen my home address, my phone number, my personal photos…"

Everyone has secrets. Even the people you want to hide your secrets from. But if there was anyone who had reasons to hide their secrets, it was the people in this place. Moyra gazed away from her reflection as Sabrina leaned against the counter, wringing her hands.

"Do you think him threatening to show me his penis is enough to get a restraining order? Or if he breaks into my filing cabinet─ that's got to be against the law, right? That's got to be under Rules of Conduct in our employee handbook…"

Moyra swallowed gently, softening her throat. "Sleep with him."

Sabrina paused in the middle of ticking rules off on her fingers. "What?"

"Men want what they can't have," said Moyra. The words slid off the tip of her tongue. "Give them what they want and they'll reach for something else. Sleep with him."

Sabrina narrowed her eyebrows at her in the mirror. "What are you─" Her eyelids fluttered and she gazed wide-eyed as if she'd been slapped. Moyra's pager beeped suddenly, the sound amplified by the ceramic tiles. Moyra checked the pager quickly and headed out the door as Sabrina stared at her own reflection, quietly murmuring "I guess… gingers are kind of attractive…"

Moyra hurried down the hallway towards the elevators. The office was busy today, and she had to dodge several people in business suits and a few armed guards before darting into a closing elevator and hitting the CA button. She'd forgotten they had one more appointment. Her morning of taking notes on screaming, thrashing, and strangely mute Psions had taken its toll on her. An hour of hiding in the bathroom barely allowed her to regain composure and catch her breath. But she remembered who they were going to visit this time, and she felt a small ounce of relief. At least this one wouldn't be throwing chairs… as far as she knew.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out onto the concrete floor. Doors lined the corridor, their windows casting long white bars of light into the hallway like flashlights. As she headed down the hall, a man called to her from up ahead.

"There you are. I thought I was going to have to come and get you." Dr. Habegger handed her a clipboard as she stopped in front of him. Two armed men in blue armor waited for them just as before, gazing at them behind sunglasses. Moyra gave him an exasperated smile.

"I'm sorry, I was on the fourth floor," she said, scribbling the date on the form. "Didn't realize the time."

"It's alright," said Dr. Habegger. "Just make sure you make a note of how many sessions this has been. And─" he gave her a scrutinizing look. "This time, make sure you keep your eyes on the clipboard, mmm? It's protocol for a reason."

Moyra nodded and rested the clipboard against her waist. Dr. Habegger turned to the door and knocked twice. From inside, a low voice said "enter."

The door opened and Dr. Habegger entered the room first. Moyra caught a glimpse of Paxton Fettel standing with his back to them and a hand up to the tiny window in the wall before she quickly lowered her gaze and stood in her usual spot by the corner. The door shut behind them, and muffled shuffling confirmed that the guards had taken position on either side of the door.

Dr. Habegger leaned against the sink. "Hello again, Mr. Fettel. Looking at something?"

"A group of crows have made a nest in my window," said Paxton. He stepped backward. "A new couple. Possibly damaged."

"That sounds pretty neat," said Dr. Habegger. "What makes you think they're damaged?"

There was a pause, and in Moyra's peripheral vision, she saw Paxton turn his head to Dr. Habegger. "Well it seems, Doctor, that they've eaten their own young. Quite an unusual appetite you might say."

Dr. Habegger seemed taken aback. He glanced at Moyra and she quickly jotted down a summary of Paxton's response. Dr. Habegger cleared his throat. "Anyways, let's get down to business."

There wasn't much for Moyra to write. Dr. Habegger asked him the same questions he did before, and it might have been some kind of passive aggressive nature, but Paxton answered him with only one or two words. He didn't pace, but instead leaned back against the raised bed with his hands resting on the frame and his legs slightly crossed. He seemed very relaxed after a week of complete isolation. Moyra jotted it down and then made little absent-minded circles over the "o" in her name. Maybe Dr. Habegger was right and all Psions needed to calm down was for the doctor to take away the only bit of freedom they had left.

"Well if that's all, I think we'll end the session here," said Dr. Habegger finally. "You seem to be doing real well, Mr. Fettel. Keep it up. We'll see you next week."

He headed to the door, throwing Moyra a quick glance. Like an obedient dog, she ducked her head and slipped the pen into the notebook clip. Dr. Habegger opened the door and stepped outside, and Moyra left her corner.

"May I speak with you a moment?"

Moyra turned around in surprise. With an alarming jolt, she found herself looking right into Paxton's grey eyes. He was standing up straight and gazing at her as if expecting her to scream.

She spun quickly towards the door, voice caught in her throat. Dr. Habegger was frozen in mid-step, and the guards were each reaching for the door. The air felt strangely heavy, and the ambient noises from the building had gone quiet. Time had stopped. The degree of danger that she was in began to build up in her. This was bad.

She turned back to Paxton, lowering her arms. So much for being relaxed. He clearly had something terrible planned, but she wasn't going to let him know that she was frightened. She forced her voice to stay steady. "This is an illusion."

Paxton raised an eyebrow at her. "Observant, although slow." He moved towards her, and she fought the urge to take a step back. She was able to see all of his features clearly as opposed to her glance the previous week. He was far more gaunt than she thought, with a sharp nose and medium length black hair swept neatly back. A curious scar peaked across his upper lip. He looked, by all accounts, like a day-walking vampire. And the way he was looking at her didn't throw out the possibility that he would eat her, or worse.

She straightened her shoulders. "You're going to kill me?"

The corner of his mouth rose, and he stopped a few feet from her. "Now what would be the purpose of that? I unleash my built-up anger, you die, and then I spend the rest of my days eating out of a slot in the wall. No." He cocked his head to one side. "I've got a better plan than that."

"It'd better be good," said Moyra, energy building in her with the promise of not being murdered. "Because once this illusion breaks, you're going to be locked in this cell forever anyways."

His grey eyes burned into hers, and for a moment, Moyra thought he would hit her. He stepped closer to her and she shrank back on the spot. "There's something I need you to do for me."

She gasped a feeble laugh. "Why the fuck─ what makes you think I'd want to help you?"

He narrowed his gaze. "I think we both know why. Or perhaps Armacham would function under better parameters if they knew a Psion was working as a psychology assistant."

Moyra felt her stomach drop. He wouldn't─ but as she looked at him, she knew he was serious. She was simply trading one death sentence for another. Armacham wouldn't hesitate to lock her away in a cell and perform tests, just as they did with Paxton. The prospect made her shiver. "They'll never believe you."

"Perhaps not," said Paxton. "Or perhaps they will consider a Psionic screening, just to be sure."

For a moment, she stared back at him, waiting for his resolve to fail. This man was desperate. He was risking everything just to be able to speak with her. Whatever he had planned was probably dangerous enough to incriminate Moyra as well. She was stuck no matter what she did.

She breathed deeply and relaxed her shoulders. Take it one step at a time, and perhaps she could still get out of this in one piece.

"What do you need me to do?" she said, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth.

Paxton smiled under narrowed brows. "I want to know about Auburn, or more specifically, I want to know about Rammelmeier Industrial Compound."

"Ram─ what?" Moyra shook her head. "I don't know anything about Auburn. It's just a slum."

"Perhaps on the surface," said Paxton. "There are secrets in Auburn that Armacham would kill to protect. I intend to find out what they are."

"Why?" Moyra remembered his questions to Dr. Habegger about Auburn, and didn't expect she would get a warmer response. "What is it about Auburn that's got you so interested?"

For the first time, Paxton looked away from her, a mystical gleam in his eyes. "I have no memories beyond Armacham. All my life, I've trained for combat, followed orders, submitted like a slave. I am Armacham's greatest weapon. But if I were unleashed against them…"

A strange feeling fluttered through Moyra's chest. "You're going to destroy Armacham."

Paxton straightened. His muscles flexed as though he were struggling against something. "I want my memories back, nothing more. And if that includes destroying Armacham in the process, I won't hesitate. I don't wish to harm anyone." He gave her a look of concern, which on his face simply looked more disturbing. "I simply want the truth."

A strange buzzing had begun to fill the room. Moyra shook her head. "Even if I go to Auburn and find what you're looking for," she said, "they'll never let me back in this room with you. I don't even know where to start looking."

"Start with Rammelmeier," said Paxton. He gritted his jaw. The buzzing grew louder. "You'll find a way."

Moyra opened her mouth to reply, but the room suddenly rotated. An explosion of sound rocked her backwards, and she had the oddest sensation as if she were being sucked through a drain. Low voices echoed around her, and she recognized one of them as the air cleared.

"Get out now! Move!" Hands wrapped themselves around her upper arms and she was pulled backwards. Two blue shapes flew past her, their footsteps muffled against the shrill of the siren. Moyra forced her vision into focus.

Paxton was flat on the ground, both guards on top of him and wrenching his arms behind his back. Red lights flashed from every direction and more men rushed towards the little cell. One of them drew a large syringe from his pocket as he disappeared into the room. Moyra's heart pounded. Was this really happening..?

"Get her out of here!" she heard Dr. Habegger shout. As she was hauled backwards, she had just enough time to see Paxton fall limp before the door slammed shut, her vision blurred, and all that was left was the resounding echo of the sirens.


	6. Chapter 6

It was nice to be back in the quiet hallways of the upper floors at F.E.A.R headquarters. Joe still had a ringing in his ears. He didn't understand why people had to shout when the message could be delivered just as effectively by talking. Still, he'd kept his mouth shut and nodded when he needed to. He gazed out the wide windows at the pillar-like buildings all at different heights and reflecting white against the sun. Here was where a man felt powerful, no matter what kind of hell he had to endure.

The walls were made of glass, though most of the rooms were blocked by shades against the bright sun. He passed by a room that was still open and recognized a figure typing away on a computer. Slowing down, he raised a knuckle and tapped on the glass. Jin looked up from the screen, her dark eyes highlighted a brilliant brown in the light. The corners of her mouth rose a bit, and she waved him in.

Joe entered quietly through the glass door and slid into an office chair at the desk beside her. Somehow, the act of sitting seemed to drain all the energy out of him. He slouched with his feet stretched out in front of him and breathed a deep sigh. He didn't mind if he stayed there the rest of the afternoon with the skyscraper background.

Jin resumed typing and threw him a quick glance. "Did you talk to Betters?" she asked.

Joe ran a hand down his hairy face, feeling a small bit of weight creep back on his shoulders. "More or less."

Jin shook her head, eyes still on the screen. "If he used his bullshit threats of a court martial or disciplinary hearings, I wouldn't worry about it. Those were my orders, not his."

"Glad you could see things from my perspective─" Joe found himself staring into Jin's sparking eyes as she whirled around on him.

"That doesn't mean I forgive you for what you did," she said. She shook her head slightly. "Christ, Joe, I thought I meant more to you than that."

She paused abruptly, as though she hadn't meant to say that. Joe sat frozen in his chair. Somehow, he'd felt less shame when Betters had screamed at him as opposed to Jin's quiet disappointment. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind, lowering his gaze.

Jin closed her eyes and turned away. "Anyway," she continued, and Joe's comfort lifted a little. "I wanted to ask you something."

Joe twisted in his chair a bit. "Yeah?" He leaned slightly to see what she was typing.

"I wanted to ask you…" She looked at him as though she were struggling to find the right words "What really happened in that apartment?"

Joe smiled lightly and furrowed his eyebrows. "You think I lied to Betters?"

"I think you're not telling the whole truth, for whatever reason." She swiveled her chair and leaned back as though she were a psychiatrist. "One second you're on the floor like you'd been tackled by a line-backer, and the next second you're shooting a little girl. Point blank. In the face. Without even a second's hesitation. It's like you had it in for her or something."

Joe stared at her as he held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "What did you find?"

Jin stuttered slightly, frustration lined in her face. For a second, Joe worried that she might yell at him, but she turned to the computer and clicked on a file that brought up a picture of the blond girl.

"Her name was Mary Crawford," said Jin, staring at the screen as though she were studying it. "She was a Paragon subject for Armacham. Brought in when she was four years old, tested low for telekinesis and telepathy but showed signs of promise." Jin ran a pen along the sentences on the screen. "Her dad died when she was six. Line of duty. Her mom though, lived at seven-ninety-six Galena Road, apartment number two-hundred." She glanced at Joe. "The apartment we found Mary in."

"She said she was looking for someone," said Joe. He leaned over Jin's shoulder and gazed at the screen. "She kept saying it over and over. Someone wasn't there."

"Her mom moved apartments two years after Mary was taken to Armacham," said Jin. "The remains we found were from a guy named Bruce Freer. It's like he was liquidated from the inside out. Now how could an eight year old girl with barely enough Psychic powers to lift a feather be able to liquify a fully grown man?"

Joe shook his head and leaned back. The new information was only adding to the mystery that began when they had encountered the little girl in the apartment. And when she had changed into the black-haired demon with the fiery eyes, floating closer to him…

Jin drew in a breath that regained his attention. "I did an autopsy and bio-reading on the girl's body," she said. "There was an outside influence on the girl's motor cortex and frontal lobe. I think something─ someone was controlling her."

Joe tilted his head slightly. "You don't think it could have been some kind of mental breakdown? Maybe bringing out powers she didn't know she had?"

"Maybe," said Jin, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "At least until whatever it was decided to pay me a visit as the classic bedsheet ghost." Joe raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued "the thing is, if there's a Psion that can control someone and do that kind of damage, then this could put the whole city at risk. We're talking a rogue, extremely powerful and clearly homicidal Psion able to possess other Psions. Probably the most dangerous Psion we've ever seen."

Joe breathed out slowly. He waited for Jin to say more, but she was staring at him with narrowed brows. He felt her anticipation more than she showed it, and he bowed his head in resignation, his long black hair falling into his face.

"I was in some kind of illusion," he said. "That girl." He nodded towards the screen. "I don't know… it wasn't her. It was some other girl. Black hair, red eyes… I couldn't move or talk. The only way I got out of it was by slowing down and shooting her."

"She was able to pull _you_ into an illusion?" Jin folded her arms across her chest. " Jesus. The whole 'little girl' act could be some kind of avatar. Did she say anything?"

Joe waved his hands slightly as he tried to piece together the memories. "Mother's got you," he said. Jin's look of confusion mirrored his own. She repeated the words quietly.

"You don't… remember anything from Armacham, do you?" she said. "Maybe a Psion that had a grudge against you?"

Joe shook his head. "Everything starts with F.E.A.R. They made sure to wipe everything clean before I got here. And honestly I'm not sure I want to remember." He grabbed his hairy chin in his thumb and finger.

"So." Jin stared at a point above Joe's shoulder. "Either Armacham has a psychopathic rogue Psion, or─"

"─or I really pissed someone off at Armacham," said Joe. He smiled and shook his head. "Making friends wherever I go."

Jin gazed back at the screen and the blond girl's photo. "Killing Mary Crawford only destroyed the link between her and whatever was controlling her. Fucking bastards." Jin shook her head. "We could have helped her. And there's a high chance that this will happen again. But next time," she looked at Joe, "you take your orders from me. Right?"

For a moment, Joe didn't say anything. He looked into Jin's brown eyes, feeling a small dread build up inside of him. Jin's hopeful gaze faded and her eyes grew wider.

"I didn't kill her because Command ordered it," said Joe. The darkness in him gained strength. He suddenly felt very powerful. "I killed her because I felt… something. I didn't like it."

He could see Jin's body tensing up. "What did you feel?" she asked barely above a whisper.

"I felt…" Joe drifted back to the moment when the girl gazed up at him, mouthing voiceless words, the faintest red flare glinting behind her blue eyes. That demonic face coming for him out of the darkness, and _mother mother mother_ echoing around him. Joe looked at Jin with narrowed eyes. "... home."

There was silence as the disturbing atmosphere settled, and Jin's gaze slowly turned to worry. Before either of them could speak, a shape passed by the window and blocked out a bar of sunlight. Spencer's slim shape came into view, and he bit out of a green apple, cocking his head to the side and locking eyes with Joe. Spencer slowed and stopped. A sheepish grin spread across his face, and he waved with the apple in his hand.

Joe was suddenly aware of how close he was sitting to Jin. He leaned back in his chair quickly, and Jin cleared her throat as she swiveled back to the computer. Spencer pointed to his apple and said something, spraying bits of apple on the glass. Joe let out a long breath. The tension that had built up in the room suddenly seemed to vanish.

"I'll see what he wants," said Joe. Jin muttered an approval, and Joe stood from the chair and opened the glass door.

"Hey," said Spencer as the door closed behind Joe. He took another bite of his apple. "You guys aren't breaking up, are you?"

"If I say yes, will you stop asking?" said Joe. Spencer smiled at him through a mouthful of green mush. He pointed to his apple.

"Wanna see if I can nail that trash can from here?" said Spencer.

"Not really." Joe wiped the flecks of chewed apple off the window with his sleeve. Through the glass, he saw Jin glance up at him, and her eyes crinkled as she tried to hide her smile. "Shouldn't you be down in the barracks?"

"It's lonely in there without my two best teammates," said Spencer. He looked back and forth between Joe and Jin, then swallowed. "Alright man, if you guys want your privacy, I'll leave you two alone." He turned and headed back to the elevators.

Joe watched him leave, feeling his shoulders drop. Between Spencer and Jin, Joe couldn't decide whether he was becoming more human or simply creating a wedge. His history at Armacham might have been swept clean, but he could still feel it tugging at his nerves. It was a dull ache that he finally decided he hated. He crossed his arms. "Two-hundred dollars."

Spencer stopped so quickly he nearly tripped. "What?" he said turning.

"Two-hundred dollars if you can get it in the trash can," said Joe. Spencer looked down at the apple in his hand.

"It's just a fucking apple, man." Even so, a grin spread across Spencer's face. He walked slowly back down the hall, spinning the apple in his hand. "Alright, two-hundred it is, Rain Man."

He swung his arm hard and the apple sailed through the air. As they both watched, the apple arched towards the steel bin, smacked into the side with a loud bang, and fell with a splat onto the floor. Seeds dripped with juice along the reflective steel surface on the white carpet. For a while, the two men stared at the mess.

"Lame," said Spencer. Joe nodded silently.


	7. Chapter 7

The atmosphere was a permanent stain of orange, hovering low over the rusty buildings as Moyra drove down the old streets. She peered through the windshield over her steering wheel and looked for the signs for Rammelmeier Industrial Compound. It was difficult; every building looked in the exact same state of disrepair. She tried to ignore the groups of people on the streets, although she felt her gut wrench at the sight of a young woman curled up in the gutter clutching a small bundle of rags.

As she passed by a large oak tree, a plain white building came into view with the words "Ramm lm ier Ind stries" hanging crookedly from the wall. The Armacham logo posed proudly above it in noticeably better condition. The building itself was unremarkable, but a large chainlink fence enclosed it and several adjacent buildings, and was laced with glinting razorwire. Moyra felt a slight bubble of irony. Had Paxton Fettel not told her which area was significant, she might have still spotted it. She identified the entrance and pulled her car around to face a large steel gate. A man in a blue uniform with ATC written across his chest stepped out of a booth as she stopped.

"State your name and business," he said as she rolled her window down. Moyra forced her apprehension aside as she focused on the task. She wasn't in danger yet.

"I'm here to apply for a position in waste management," she said quickly. "Moyra Welch." The guard didn't say anything for a moment, and Moyra was sure he was studying her behind his sunglasses. She softened her throat. "You can take my I.D and license plate if you want," she said. "I'll only be a few minutes."

The guard leaned back from the car slowly, then shook his head. "Let me open the gate for you." He stepped back inside the booth and there was a loud ringing as the gate creaked open on rickety wheels.

Moyra brought the car in and circled the parking lot. For a simple industrial facility, it had far too much parking; three parking structures alone. She guessed that there might be more underground as well. Armacham was never good at hiding secrets. Every year they lost millions of dollars in attempts to keep people quiet. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. She speculated at what happened to the ones who chose to ignore their bribery.

She parked her car in one of the structures and made her way to what appeared to be the main building. The difference inside was shocking. The laminate floors reflected the sunlight that shined through tall clean windows. Electric-blue escalators connected the main floor to a glass loft where people criss-crossed with steaming mugs and handfuls of papers. As Moyra approached the balcony to look down, she nearly launched herself backward as she took in the empty space of nearly ten identical floors connected by escalators in rings. This was clearly no industrial facility. Paxton had been right, although whatever he was right about was still a mystery, and Moyra leaned over the edge of the rail as if hoping to see arrows pointing to where she should look next.

As she gazed across the chasm, she suddenly realized a familiar buzzing sound had begun to rise among the echoing footsteps and chatter. She leaned forward on the rail in attempt to pinpoint its location. Unlike in Paxton's illusion, this sound was subtle and constant, like the hum of a bee. It filled her head, coming from nowhere, and she was convinced that only she could hear it. But if that was true, then it was caused by a Psion. And if it was caused by a Psion, then someone knew she was there…

She felt a tap on her arm. Looking up, she felt the pit of her stomach drop as a guard in a blue ATC uniform gazed at her.

"Moyra Welch?" he asked. He had one hand on a walkie-talkie at his belt. For a moment, Moyra debated whether she should lie, but she could feel the blood draining from her face and knew it would be useless. She could only nod. The guard motioned over his shoulder. "Come with me."

He put a hand under her arm and led her out in front of him as if she were a prisoner. People turned their curious faces towards her as she passed by them, and she tried to keep her head low. It was nearly impossible not to imagine the danger she was in. The guard had no way of knowing what Paxton had said to her, nor why she was really there. The lack of handcuffs suggested she might not be in trouble, but that was no relief.

They approached a curved wall with several shiny elevator doors. Moyra was pushed through a group of men and into one of the open cars. As the guard reached around her to push one of the lower buttons, several people peered in, and she had a horrible feeling as though she would never see the sunlight again. The metal doors slid closed, and the chatter died.

"Waste management, huh?" said the guard. For a moment, Moyra was unable to tell if he was being friendly. She kept her eyes on the elevator panel and watched the numbers tick. 2b… 3b… 4b… They were headed deep into the core of Rammelmeier. If she wasn't in trouble, where was he taking her?

"It's not every day someone can pass through gate security to apply for a position that doesn't exist," the guard continued. "I think Armacham is gonna be really interested in seeing what else you've got up your sleeve."

Moyra's pores flushed. Her mouth dropped open and she uttered small gasps. No. This couldn't be happening. Behind her, the guard muttered something about his co-worker being hypnotized by her, but the ringing in her ears drowned out his words. Maybe she could persuade him. She could work her way out of it somehow. But her mind was too jumbled. Every muscle in her body shivered. The ringing in her ears drowned out the guard completely, turning to buzzing. Loud, roaring buzzing.

The lights flickered. Moyra choked on her breath as she wrapped her arms around herself. Everything was falling apart. She should have told Dr. Habegger what Paxton said to her. She should have convinced him that Paxton was a liar. There had to be something better than this. The numbers on the panel ticked lower and lower. As the car descended, the added lift of the fall made Moyra feel as though she were floating. Her head spun. And for a few moments, she could swear that there was someone else in the car. Someone small and hunched, gazing at her as the buzzing grew louder…

The car rattled to a stop and the doors slid open. Moyra was jolted back to reality as the guard pushed her forward. "Don't make me have to carry you," he said. Her jittery fear still plagued her nerves as she walked through the empty and slightly darker hallway. They passed by open doors where officers leaned over piles of paper on their desks or barked over the phone. She gave her head a shake and tried to clear her mind. A level head could still get her out of this. The buzzing creeped into her ears again and she tried to shut it out. They passed by a few more open doors with one officer pacing in front of his desk, another peaking out his door to see who was passing, and an office with a peculiar shadow in one corner that disappeared when Moyra looked again.

Finally they came to a stop at a closed, windowless door. The guard drew out a key and fiddled the door open. He pushed her inside. "Sit at the table facing the mirror and place your hands flat on the table," he said. There was nowhere else for her to go. She went to the steel table in the middle of the small room and sat in the chair, resting her hands on the cool surface of the metal. She gazed past the guard into the one-way window and watched herself in reverse as the guard snapped handcuffs onto her wrists which tethered her to the center of the table.

"Stay cozy," he said. He turned and left the room, closing it behind him.

Moyra stared into her eyes in the mirror, all sound muffled as though she were in a cave. This was the end of the line. Armacham had her. Dr. Habegger would be shocked when he found out that his assistant had been a Psion all along. No doubt, he'd want to probe and test her until she was nothing but an empty shell. She looked down at her chains and closed her fingers around them. Chains and walls. She was looking at the rest of her life.

A lump formed in her throat. She'd really made a mess of things this time. Now she would get a first-hand look at what really happens to Psions behind closed doors. She thought of Paxton despite her growing spite of him for putting her in this position. If something happened to him here, there was no way she could ever find out. He was probably already suffering under the microscope and instruments, hoping for information that he would never get. She was foolish to have counted on his trust in her.

Over the frustration, it dawned on Moyra that the air had chilled. Her thoughts about Paxton faded as she watched bumps rise on her arms. The buzzing returned. Before she could regain composure, an overpowering numbness swept her body. The air rushed out of her lungs, and she gripped either side of her head, clawing at her temples. She couldn't ignore it anymore. What was this? She had the oddest sensation as though fingers were digging into her mind. Her stomach wrenched. This was an invasion. Something wanted into her head. Her thoughts raced from the shiny hallways of Armacham, Dr. Habegger's face, a closed steel door, Paxton's dark form pacing in his cell…

Moyra drew in a deep breath. It didn't want her. It wanted Paxton…

She looked into the mirror, her vision blurry. The fingers probed further, and she felt as though she were being filled from the inside. Shadows moved back and forth behind her, and with a terrifying twist of her stomach, she saw something rise behind her. A black shape, cape-like and thin, standing up straight above her head. Pale naked shoulders followed, connected to protruding collarbones. It hovered motionless behind her, and Moyra felt a shocking familiarity towards it that repulsed her. She knew the figure. Knew it's father and sister and where it used to live. Knew the people who asked it questions and locked it in a cell. It had only been a little girl, for Christ's sake.

Moyra suddenly wanted to scream. These weren't her memories. This wasn't her life. Her hands shook as she tried to fight it. The figure began to lean forward slowly, black hair falling low like a curtain. Moyra opened her mouth but her throat was paralyzed. She could see it above her now, the hair hanging on either side of her face. Panic gripped every muscle in her body, and her mind screamed for escape. The hair dropped lower and lower, and Moyra shivered as she looked up.

She locked eyes with a pair of glowing red orbs. Her mouth dropped open and she finally uttered one word.

_"Alma…"_

Moyra stood up. The chains fell away and clattered on the steel table as she moved towards the door. It clicked open before she could even touch it. As she pushed the door open, the bright light burned her eyes. She remembered now. She was deep underground. This wasn't where she needed to be. As she passed silently down the hall, a door opened next to her.

"Hey! Stop!" There was a shuffle as the guard drew his pistol and aimed it at her. "Put your hands behind your head."

Moyra turned slowly towards him. He could certainly shoot her, but she had no time. She gazed at him, her mouth slightly open. He needed to leave her alone.

The guard blinked slowly. He lowered his gun for a moment, then raised the barrel underneath his chin. There was an explosive pop, and the guard fell into a heap, spraying a fine mist of blood against the wall.

Moyra stared in shock at the dead guard on the floor, a small bead of blood running down her cheek. What had she done..?

Several more guards darted into the hallway, guns drawn and aimed at her. They shouted at her all at once, their voices echoing against eachother. Moyra turned to them with wide eyes, her body trembling. They couldn't kill her. She had to go back to the Perseus Compound. Energy crackled within her as the power churned in her mind.

Several more pops, and the room was littered with broken men, the tops of their skulls blown open. Moyra took a moment to let her nerves settle, then stepped over the fallen bodies. A sickening satisfaction bubbled within her. Though she knew it was wrong, a stronger feeling rose above her doubt. These men deserved to die.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The bloody hallway disappeared, and she clenched her hands over and over again. Get to the Perseus Compound. Get to the Perseus Compound. The elevator jittered from side to side as it travelled steadily upwards. The air in the car was heavy, just as it had been when Moyra was descending with the guard. This time however, the prying sensation didn't fade away. The fingers were in deep, clawing through her very soul, drawing up memories, spreading out from her synapses. She could almost see the fingertips closing in around her peripheral vision.

When the metal doors slid open, the laminated entry hall was still densely crowded with people. Yet as she stepped out into the crowd, every face turned away from her as though something far more interesting was happening in the opposite direction. She walked through the shifting mass as people turned away in a wave, leading Moyra to the main doors through a hallway of human backs. A strong swell of excitement filled her. She could see outside. It had only been about an hour, yet in another corner of her mind, somehow it hadn't. Her hands shook as she gripped the door handle, and a smile spread across her face.

She pushed the door open and stepped outside, her dark form vanishing into the blinding white light.


	8. Chapter 8

She'd almost had him. She was so close. As the energy drained away, her last great sob of anguish shook the entire facility, causing the scientists to look at eachother in fear. It was over. She didn't have the strength to reach out again.

The guards hadn't been her target. In her desperation to find her father, she dealt with them as quickly as she could, heating their bones until they were white-hot and the flesh simply melted clean off like butter. But they came again and again, and each pulse of energy was like a finger slipping as she tried to hold on. She urged the young boy forward "find him, find him, find him," and to her surprise, he wrapped his young mind around hers in attempt to keep her from fading away. It was almost as if he knew, despite having never been told, that she was his mother.

Alma settled in a dark spot somewhere deep in the corner of her psyche. This wouldn't go unpunished. No doubt they would trace her signature to the cryostasis tank, the tomb she'd inhabited for nearly twenty years. She welcomed their anger, having finally expressed her own after so many years. But a flicker of worry nagged at her mind. What would they do to her son?

It wasn't long before she felt the presence of three people in the Vault. Her psyche perked its head up. One of the three was her father. The other two, a man and a woman, she didn't recognize. Her father was shaken, his mind jittery like a rat in a cage. The woman was furious. But the man gave Alma the most concern. He was pleased.

"Are you ready to listen to reason now?" The unfamiliar man's voice echoed in Alma's mind as she struggled to reach them.

"Cut the bullshit," said the woman. "You've been waiting for something like this to happen for years just so you can have an excuse to shut us down. Accidents happen. That's why it's called _science_."

"You call seven dead soldiers accidents of science? This isn't some failed test-tube experiment. This is murder, or maybe you forgot that Alma is a homicidal psychopath."

"Well if you want to get technical," the woman's anger frothed, "_all_ of our subjects are homicidal psychopaths!"

"Please, please," said Harlan Wade, and Alma heard his voice break. "Arguing isn't going to get us anywhere. What's done is done. What I'm more concerned about is how do we make sure this doesn't happen again?"

"Simple," said the man. "We pull the plug. Put the prototype in cryostasis and shut down life support on Alma."

A pit of fear replaced the anxiety that had built up in Alma's chest. For a moment, the three were silent.

"Are you insane?" said the woman. "Do you have any idea how much work we've put into this project?"

"I have to agree, this is a project twenty years in the making," said Harlan. "We have no idea when another Psion as powerful as Alma will be born, and the prototype has shown no signs of aggression before this. What you're suggesting could put Armacham back to the drawing board for decades."

"With all due respect," said the man "I think Armacham is in over its head with this project. Think about what would happen if this were to happen again, but the prototype escaped into the city and started killing innocent people. How would I explain this to the people of Fairport? I can't have this on my conscience. Not after what I've just seen."

"You're going to destroy groundbreaking Paragon advancement on the hunch that something _might_ happen?" said the woman. "The boy didn't even make it out of his room. Our protocols are in place specifically for this kind of thing. I think you should take that as proof of just how safe our facilities are at Armacham."

There was a pause as each person thought. The unfamiliar man had a vengeful attitude. He wanted death, one way or another. If Alma hadn't spent all her energy, she would have dug her fingers into his mind and ripped it apart. If he only knew how free she had become. Her imprisonment in the Vault had been peppered by her attempts to reach out with her mind. She'd watched her father walk from one end of the facility to the other, seen her sister type away on a computer, and watched her son write his name over and over each in a different alphabet. Her son was only two years older than she had been when she was put into cryostasis. This man would dare condemn her son to the same fate she suffered as a child?

Her father cleared his throat. As Alma probed his mind, her anger was turned to disbelief. What cruel, terrible irony. Her father felt nothing at all.

"I think there's a way to prevent a synchronization, as well as continue with the project," said Harlan. "The prototype is making excellent progress. We're considering him as our primary subject in the Perseus Mandate. But the real issue is Alma. Now when we preserved her in cryostasis, we were planning on breeding for at least two more prototypes. I think we can safely call our current prototype a success?" The woman and man were silent. "If we euthanize Alma, then we can safely rule out another synchronicity event. Then we can still proceed with the Perseus Mandate."

Alma was stunned. Was her father really suggesting that they let Alma die? She frantically scrambled through his thoughts. He couldn't be that blatant. There had to be something in his mind that felt regret. Some kind of sympathy. She was his daughter. His own child. How could he be so calm in suggesting that she be killed?

His memories hadn't changed. She recovered him pushing her on a swing, tapping her nose with a teddy bear and growling, sharing a bowl of ice cream together. But those memories were terribly faded, with skewed sound and no color. They held no meaning to him. It was twenty years ago. He was a different man.

The emotions of the other two changed slightly. "How can you be sure he won't synchronize with another one of your Psions?" said the man. "We can't be sure that this synchronization didn't damage his mind."

"I'll arrange a meeting with Dr. Habegger," said Harlan. "But I'm sure this was all a result of Alma's desire to kill. The boy says he doesn't remember a thing."

"Alma is in perfect health and perfect breeding stock," said the woman in a blunt voice. "If we just kill her now, we'll lose any chance of making replacements in case the prototype doesn't work."

"Then we'll just have to put our faith in the prototype," said Harlan. "And if we have a worst-case-scenario, we can put him into cryostasis and breed him as well."

Alma's fury could only vibrate the walls of the cryostasis tank. What an emotionless, sick monster…

"That sounds like a good plan to me," said the man. The woman was quiet for a moment, then Alma's heart dropped.

"Okay then," said the woman. "Project Origin is over."

The words echoed and faded through the cryostasis tank. Alma drifted through the empty vacuum of her exhausted mind. There was nothing she could do to stop them. Her anger fizzled and paralyzed her helplessly. All that was left was the voices of the three as they prepared to end her life.

"Let's not waste time then," said Harlan. "Care to do the honors?"

"I'll do it," said the woman. "She was my project too." There was a moment of silence as they moved. "Ready?"

"On three," said Harlan. "One, two, three."

_Warning. Psychic dampening field offline. Life support systems offline. Subject death imminent._

The voices stopped. Her mind turned darker. Colder. She felt as though she were being smothered by the weight of infinite nothingness. She reached outward but pushing against the space was like trying to lift a curtain off of her head. The more she pushed, the more she panicked. This couldn't be the end. Not this. It was too fast. The last of her energy drained away, and her struggling slowed. She settled at the bottom of her psyche, watching flashes of light dance across her synapses.

So this was it. After twenty years in containment, floating in a pod of green liquid and fed through a plastic tube, she was going to die. The only man who could have had an ounce of pity for her had been the one to suggest the act. He didn't feel a thing. If anything, there had been relief in his voice. He wanted her to die.

She had little time left in the rest of her life. No─ this wasn't her life. Surviving in a cryostasis tank wasn't living. Her life was the eight years in the sunlight, running through the grass in the recreation area outside her father's office, placing different color blocks on one another until they fell, being tossed in the air and falling into her father's arms clumsily so that she knocked his glasses askew. She had a life. A mere eight years of it. The rest belonged to the monster that Armacham imprisoned.

She refused to die as a monster. With the last bit of strength she had, she collapsed deep into her memories.

* * *

Blades of grass brushed back and forth against her toes, the wind lifting her hair as she swung. Her tiny hands gripped each chain of the wooden swing, and she wiggled her legs in attempt to go higher. She was never good at swinging by herself; her father always had to help her.

The sun was setting fast. The landscape was already dominated by the golden-orange orb, fading into pink and purple further to the east. Strips of vivid pink clouds patterned the sky, blocking the light and directing it elsewhere in long bars. It would be dark soon. Her father would be by to see her safely home.

A dark figure appeared on the horizon. Wavy hair and glasses reflecting in the light. He raised a hand and waved to her. A little pop of excitement sent her off the swing and she ran through the soft grass leaving tiny footprints behind her. He was here early!

She still hadn't learned how to swing herself. Maybe there would be time tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

Paxton had patience. Years of tactical training had taught him to draw out the hours and make a single thought last several minutes. It drove the mind wild when it focused on the expectation that something─ anything─ would keep it interested. He'd heard men in other rooms tearing their beds apart, smashing mirrors, and even breaking the pipes under their sinks in the wake of their gnawing boredom. Now, after three long weeks in solitude, Paxton's resolve was being put to the test.

The first week was easy. There were many times when the team of scientists amplified his telepathy to a point where he could feel every living human within a kilometer, and he was given a "cooling period" to let the signature fade. This, however, was very different. Something was preventing him from keeping his thoughts organized. He was edgy. Energetic. Terrified yet thrilled at the same time. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, and it took him a while to realize what the feeling was.

He felt hope.

The crows hadn't left his window. Bits of twigs and fluffy gray feathers were beginning to pile around the edge, threatening to close up the window completely. Paxton watched the window as he lay backwards on his bed, his legs crossed over his pillow and his arms behind his head. There were no new eggs, but the birds returned often and settled like dark shadows against the white light. They were especially welcome when he was exasperated or frustrated. Today they hadn't returned, and Paxton felt the uneasy twinge creep back into his chest.

He had no idea what Moyra would find in Auburn, if she even went to Auburn. The fact that the scientists hadn't dragged him from his cell and hooked him up to any machines assured him that she hadn't told anyone what he'd said to her during the illusion. Still, placing his trust in a Psion he didn't even know was the biggest risk he'd ever taken. He had to believe that the visions were the key to unlocking whatever powers Armacham had erased from his memory. He glanced around his tiny cell. There had to be more to his life than this.

Two crows landed in a flurry of feathers on the other side of the glass. They pecked at eachother as they fought for space in the tiny alcove. Paxton raised his head slightly off his arms as he looked at them. Two mates, bound by instinct, yet they hated eachother. He could imagine it worked the same with humans. With the same animosity towards their offspring. And in that cannibalistic act, they absorbed those they had created back into themselves─

A sharp pain coursed through his temples. He gasped at the shock and rolled onto his side, hands on either side of his head. The visions. He hadn't had them in weeks, but this time they rushed through him like a flood. Images flashed so fast that he had no time to comprehend them. He lost control of his muscles and he thrashed, gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes shut, wishing he could scream _"stop, stop, stop, stop!_" It was going to tear him apart.

The illusion passed. As Paxton recovered, he found himself lying on the floor tangled in his bedsheet. He gazed up at the ceiling and felt fresh sweat bead out on his face. A tremor of energy still trickled through him, and in spite of the pain, it was accompanied by an ounce of excitement. It hadn't just been stronger. It was _closer._

He turned over and dragged himself free from the bedsheet. Every muscle in his body tingled, making it difficult for him to stand up, so instead he crawled arm over arm to the middle of his cell. He could feel it in the air; an electric sensation as though thousands of people had crowded around his cell and were peering in. Except this was just one person. And it wanted him.

He suddenly felt afraid. Whatever this was, it was huge. More powerful than anything he could have imagined. The visions were merely taps on his shoulder compared to the immense mass of consciousness that now acknowledged him. Could he even survive this? He wasn't prepared. It was impossible for anyone to prepare for this.

He pushed up off the floor and raised himself in a sitting position on his knees. He hunched over, hands on his knees and breathed deeply. He wanted to go back. He would do his time in his cell, finish the Perseus Mandate, suffer whatever Dr. Habegger sentenced him. But it was too late for that. The consciousness pressed closer, whispers filling the room from all directions. They penetrated his mind and pressed against his skin, wanting in.

Paxton slowly looked up, and thought he was dreaming. Black whispy tendrils reached out from the walls of his room, waving like seaweed in a current. The corners of his room were fuzzy, and a golden fog faded in and out, the voices seeping from its depths. He felt his heart hammering. Soon it would have him, whether he wanted it or not.

He sat up straight, clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows. This is what he had wanted. He sacrificed his own freedom so he could find the source of the visions, and here it was. He drew in a deep breath, adjusting himself as much as he could against the writhing cloud of intelligence. With his last independent thought, he hoped he was right. He dropped his defenses.

The shadowy tendrils pierced through him. He barely uttered a gasp before the cloud engulfed him and the whispering voices turned into screams. Memories injected into his mind, spreading through every root of his brain. A bright orange sunset─ bubbles blowing in the breeze─ a little girl laughing as her father braided her long black hair─ pale green liquid that filled up a dark tank─ nails scratching against a pregnant stomach─ a woman's crying voice as she realized she was about to die─

Paxton was screaming before he knew it. The power stretched beyond him, taking him in all directions past people in labcoats, men in uniforms, Replica soldiers, and Psions clawing at their cell walls. He could see them all. But the consciousness directed him to three voices in his mind. A woman and two men. The consciousness turned to anger, and suddenly the thousands of voices became one.

_"Kill them. Kill them all."_

Understanding flowed through Paxton like warm water. He recognized this. Those hadn't been his memories he was experiencing in the visions. They had been hers. The same consciousness that invaded him all those years ago. How could he have forgotten… she was there the whole time. She needed him.

And she had died waiting for him.

Paxton's senses returned to him and he found himself shaking, this time from blinding, white-hot rage. How could they have done this to a little girl? A young woman with no chance to prove her innocence?_ His own mother?_

A black shape passed through his door silently. It stood in front of him, fading in and out of focus. As he stared at it, he knew what he had to do. The figure gave a reassuring nod, her hair falling into her face.

"Kill them all."

* * *

Two muffled pops exploded from outside. The voices stopped, and the cell was empty once again. But Paxton felt more whole than he'd been in his whole life. His brain was overloaded with a host of new memories mingling with his own so that he couldn't tell where hers ended and his began. And he could feel everyone. The guards that paced the hallways, the scientists, the secretaries and doctors. No one was safe.

He placed a hand on the door handle to his cell, and the door creaked open with no resistance. As he gazed ahead, he saw just in time a flash of gold as someone whipped around the corner out of sight. At his feet were the two guards, still bleeding. A pool of blood spread out onto the tiles.

They were still armed, and Paxton knelt down, fumbling with the gear on one of them. He stood up, pistol in hand. He gripped it hard. There was so much he had to do, he had trouble deciding where to begin. Shoulders back and jaw set, he walked down the tile hallway towards the elevators. Behind him bloody footprints followed, pitter-pattering against the heavy clicks of his own boots.

It had been so long since he'd been out of his cell, and he'd never been without an escort. He marched quickly, and there was crashing as the Psions in the other cells banged and screamed against their doors. As he neared the elevator, the elevator doors suddenly opened.

A man in a white coat stepped out, but as he saw Paxton he stopped in his tracks. His eyes lit up with fear.

Paxton halted, staring at the trembling doctor. He didn't recognize him. Neither did his mother. The doctor held up his hands and stuttered.

"W-wait a second. Please─"

Paxton raised the pistol and fired it. The bullet struck the doctor's shoulder, jolting him backwards and sending bits of shirt and blood all over the back of the elevator. Paxton fired again. And again. The doctor rocked back into the elevator, hands and arms flailing. A hole opened in the doctor's head and he collapsed to the floor, twitching.

Paxton stood over him, electrified with energy. He pointed the gun down at the doctor's bleeding head and continued shooting. The gun smoked with each recoil, and as flecks of meat littered the walls, the man's face was now an unrecognizable mush. The gun popped and popped, then clicked and clicked.

There was blood all over his jacket. Behind him the Psions were wild, thrashing against the solid metal. As Paxton lowered the gun, a satisfying feeling swept over him. He was alpha. A primary predator. And now he knew how to kill.

He stepped inside the elevator and dropped the useless pistol. He needed more guns. No… he pressed the button on the elevator. If he tried to hunt them all down, they would outrun him. He wasn't even sure where to start looking. And Armacham would no doubt set up the most extreme defenses against him. He needed eyes and ears all over Fairport in order to track them down and kill them all.

He needed an army.


	10. Chapter 10

"You're leading him too much."  
"I got it," said Jin. She flexed her hand on the rifle, turning it gently as she peered through the laser sight.  
"You're gonna lose him." She could almost hear Spencer shaking his head behind her. A streak of anger shot through her and she lost the tingling sensation that had been building in her muscles. Great. Now she had to start all over again. She quickly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There might still be time…  
The figure flashed in between the spaces of stacked crates, steel shelves and concrete walls as he ran full speed. He was running exactly perpendicular to her, but he was closing in on his target fast. Jin kept both eyes open as she analyzed his trajectory through the lasersight, and his velocity through the optical on her left eye. The tingling began and she saw it: a swift dart to the side… slight stumble over the broken boxes… but would he jump the railing or go under it? It was too hazy. Too far ahead.  
He darted sideways, and tripped forward over the boxes. There was no time. She held her breath and took the shot.  
The figure leaped over the railing and landed on the bright red circle, which flashed vividly and dissolved the humanoid shape.  
_Subject lost. Simulation terminated._  
"Fuck!" Jin lowered the rifle so the barrel pointed towards the ceiling as the industrial atmosphere dissolved in a shower of shifting cubes spinning away into the domed walls. The lights turned on, revealing a network of grids in the now empty space.  
Jin leaned forward with her forehead in her hand as Spencer gave her a pat on the back. "Bad call?" he asked.  
"There's no _call_," said Jin. She stared angrily at the grid. "Just bad timing." Spencer leaned against the half-wall that separated the projection-deck from the main floor.  
"You ever thought about Reflex Boosting?" he said. "It's almost standard in F.E.A.R. Just about everyone knows how to do it."  
Jin felt the streak of anger again and turned to him. "Well thanks a lot, Spencer. Got anything else you can add to my list of 'shit I should have learned in boot camp'─" She stopped with a slight lump in her throat as she noticed the shape of a man standing in the open doorway leaned against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. She gave herself a mental kick, and felt slightly ashamed that he'd witnessed her failed simulation.  
Joe narrowed his bright grey eyes at her. "How do you know if something's going to happen?"  
Jin blinked. "What?"  
Joe shifted against the doorframe. "How can you tell when something will happen?"  
For a moment, Jin was taken aback by the question. She opened her mouth as if to retaliate, but there was no lying to him. He might as well have asked about the scar on her left breast. Trust in Joe to make a tense situation even more awkward.  
Spencer looked back and forth between them. "What's that supposed to mean?" said Spencer. Joe didn't say anything, and Jin found herself in a spotlight that she hadn't expected to be in. She struggled to think of the right words to say.  
"I suppose…" she said "I see it." The two men stared at her, and she swallowed lightly. "Before it happens, I mean. Kind of like a memory but it hasn't happened yet. I guess it's why Betters wanted me on the field."  
For a while, there was silence.  
"Wait a minute," said Spencer, closing his eyes and straining his eyebrows. "What are you saying? You can see the _future?_"  
Jin looked sideways at him, frustration tugging at her nerves. "It's not some sort of future-seeing mysticism. It's only about a second. Hardly worth mentioning."  
"That's why Betters made you team-leader!" Spencer pounded his fist on the wall. "That bastard said my Paragon levels were shit. I didn't sleep for five days…"  
"Look, it's not my decision who gets made leader or not," said Jin. She motioned to the projection deck. "Christ, I can barely hit a moving target from two-hundred yards."  
"... jeopardizing the team," said Spencer, staring at his hands as he ticked off his fingers. "Low comprehension, zero sensory projection, no telekinesis…"  
Joe leaned off the door frame and strode toward them. He looked even more shaded in the dark room, his long black hair casting shadows across his bearded face. "I think you're thinking about it all wrong," he said, leaning on his arms against the top of the half-wall.  
Jin gazed at him with narrow eyes. "How so?"  
"You're trying to hit a moving target with a sniper rifle from two-hundred yards away," said Joe. "And you're giving yourself a second's notice. Not a whole lot of time, is it?"  
"That's as far as I've been able to push it," said Jin loudly as Spencer growled to behind her. "Any longer and it starts to get fuzzy and broken up."  
Joe put a hand on his belt. "So that's it? One second is good enough?"  
"Until now, yes," said Jin. The gleam was fading from Joe's eyes in a way that put her on edge. "It's not exactly something I can take a class for. Not many people can do what I can do."  
"... no telepathy. Telepathy!" Spencer paced behind them. "What the hell's wrong with just using the commlink?"  
Joe shook his head. "Sounds to me like you're just giving up. You haven't even tried to improve your skills."  
Jin felt her face heat up. "I'm not giving up!" She stood up straight in attempt to make herself taller, although she still barely reached Joe's chin even as he hunched over on his elbows. "I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. It was good enough to make me team-leader." She threw a cautious glance at Spencer.  
Wrinkles formed at one side of Joe's mouth as he smirked. "Well I'm glad being team-leader made all of your dreams come true. Maybe you'll let me know when you get a good enough aim to be just as good as the rest of us." He drummed on the wall.  
"What the hell do you want me to say, Joe?" Jin felt the anger rising fast. "What do _you_ want me to do about this?"  
"... piece of cock-sucking ass!" Spencer was ticking fingers on his other hand. "I didn't even test for pyromancy!"  
Joe glanced at Spencer. His hand flicked to his belt again, and in that moment, Jin felt a frantic wave wash over her.  
It stunned her that she hadn't even been prepared, but the images flashed too quickly for her to grasp the situation. A flash of steel… Spencer's voice suddenly silenced… and red liquid… lots of red liquid…  
She inhaled a quick gasp of air. Her hand shot up, and she slapped Joe across the face. The slap echoed for a moment in the wide room.  
As everyone stood frozen, the shock only grew for Jin. It happened so fast. She worked hard to replay the events in her mind. What just happened? A red sore in the shape of a hand rose on Joe's cheek. She'd just prevented something horrific. Joe was going to─ no. Not Joe. He couldn't possibly… but that look on his face was real. And she had seen it. All that blood...  
Joe turned his head towards her, a small smile stretching his black beard. "That's a good start." He moved his hand away from his belt and rested against the wall.  
A cautious realization swept through her, and she almost laughed out loud. What a prick. What a senseless, unprecedented prick.  
Spencer's face was nearly a blur from looking between the two of them so fast. He cleared his throat. "Listen, I'm always here for you guys if you ever want to talk about your… uh… relationship. Issues."  
Jin cocked her head to one side as she looked at Spencer. "Spence, I'm not even going to tell you to shut your fucking mouth on that subject." She hoisted the sniper rifle in the crook of her arm and opened the chamber.  
"Whoa, seriously, Joe," said Spencer. "You're going to let your girl say that?"  
Joe sighed. "Even if she was my _girl_, she can say what she wants."  
"Really?" said Spencer. "So you don't care what she does or what she says?"  
Jin couldn't help but focus most of her attention on the conversation as she removed the empty energy compartment from the chamber. "Not really, and no," said Joe.  
"So you're saying you're not attracted to her in the slightest way?" said Spencer. "You get no stimulation from the─" there was a movement behind her as Spencer traced the outline of Jin's figure "─ voracious curves of her hourglass body?" Jin snorted.  
"Is there a 'no to all questions' option here?" said Joe.  
"Honestly, you really don't care who she dates?" said Spencer. "Even a guy as sexy as this?" Jin could only imagine he was pointing to himself.  
Joe let out a long breath. "How can I spell it out for you? I… don't… care."  
"So you're saying," said Spencer "that you wouldn't care if I did this?" Jin felt a thumb and finger on either side of her jaw, and her vision was taken over by Spencer's face as he turned her head. Her mouth felt scratchy and she realized with a jolt that he was kissing her. Before she could react, he pulled away and turned to Joe with a wide sneer.  
She looked at Joe, and felt a slight disappointment at the lack of reaction. Joe's face was completely expressionless, his arms folded across his chest. She felt her heart sink. His self-control was flawless… even if it meant changing his mind about putting a knife in Spencer's neck in less than a second. But in a way, it was also somewhat depressing.  
Jin shook her head. "Spencer, you're a perverted piece of─"  
The two men stared at her as she stood paralyzed on the spot. Her vision blurred slightly, and her mouth hung open as she struggled to speak. Every muscle in her body trembled. As the moments ticked by, the feeling grew stronger in her. Dread. Horrible, powerful dread. Something was happening.  
She barely noticed the men as the feeling threatened to overpower her. All thoughts about Joe and her training disappeared. She'd never had a reading outside of combat. How could she be getting this reading now when there was no danger? But it most certainly was there, filling her like a black cloud. She hovered on that color. Intense, impenetrable blackness… greater than she'd ever felt before. So many people…  
She looked up at Joe who had stepped forward towards her. She stammered slightly as he put a hand on her shoulder.  
"What is it?" he said.  
Jin felt her muscles spring into action. She grabbed his hand and rushed past him, dragging him behind her through the door.  
"We need to see Betters," she said. The black cloud continued to grow, and she felt panic set in. "_Now._"


	11. Chapter 11

Everything happened quicker than Moyra expected. She heard the shots only minutes after she stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor. A few men in business suits paused in the hallways, looked up and made eye-contact with eachother, then turned and scurried in different directions. Moyra zig-zagged past them, heading to Dr. Habegger's office.

It was a strange relief when the feelings and memories slipped from her mind, as though a ravenous parasite had been tugged away. She could only guess that Paxton had found what he was looking for. She'd heard his screams just before she turned and left for the elevators. Though she felt curiously eager to see what would happen next, she silently hoped that whatever had hijacked her mind would simply kill Paxton and her nightmare would be over. However, her fears were verified at the echo of the door creaking open, and she knew that this was only the beginning of a horrifying new chapter.

Dr. Habegger's office was on the far side of the building, and she quickened her pace as voices rang down the hallways. A few ATC guards sprinted past her, wrenching pistols out of their belts and calling orders into the walkie-talkies on their shoulders. She turned left down a hallway and then the sirens sounded. Clear cup-sized cylinders dropped down from the ceiling, flashing yellow light in all directions.

_Attention all personnel. Please head to the nearest emergency exit. Containment breach in progress._

Doors flew open as people curiously peeked out of their offices. Some threw worried glances in her direction. Then a steady stream of people hurried the opposite direction down the hallway, and Moyra paused quickly to plaster her back to the wall. Her heart hammered in her chest. This was happening. It was really happening.

A familiar brunette appeared out of the crowd. "Moyra, what the hell is going on?" There was no time to answer before Sabrina was pushed down the corridor.

Moyra took a deep breath then slid along the wall against the rush of people. She needed to hurry. He could still be in his office.

She elbowed several people aside, and then she heard the ominous rattle of gunfire in the distance. The hallway erupted in screams. The rush turned into a flood as people escaped through the open doors in all directions. Moyra felt terror spread through her body. How could Paxton have moved so quickly? She didn't ponder the question. She turned and ran full speed, knocking people over and stumbling.

The hallway was nearly empty as she neared Dr. Habegger's office. She clutched the door handle and threw her shoulder against it as she entered.

"─ expect me to do. You know I've been telling you to shut this project down for years, and now that we finally have a breach, you're leaving it up to me to clean the mess?" Dr. Habegger was hunched over his desk with the phone jammed to his ear, warning symbols flashing all over the monitor and the television. Moyra paused in the middle of his office, relief flowing through her. He looked up from the phone and made sharp gestures. _"Close the door!"_ he half-shouted under his breath, then raised the phone back to his mouth. "Do I need to put things into perspective for you? There are about a hundred armed guards here at Perseus and over a thousand Replica soldiers. Do you really think we can get this situation under control?" Moyra closed the door, muffling the screams and distant gunfire. She jumped as Dr. Habegger pounded a fist on his desk. "He's already synced with them! People are dying here!" His expression paused as he listened. "Fine. You do that. In the meantime, you'd better hire a good lawyer because you're going to need it." He slammed the phone down on the receiver.

"Charles─" Moyra began, but Dr. Habegger snatched his coat off the hanger and moved toward her.

"We need to get to the security station," he said, cupping a hand under her arm and pulling her to the door. "Once the barricades go down, there's nothing coming through them until security's lifted." He opened the door and the gunfire returned, closer this time. He rushed down the hallway. "To the stairs. Move!"

Moyra ran after him, darting past the occasional petrified person in the hallway. The gunshots faded into the distance, but shivers of anticipation still racked her body. At every turn, she expected they would run full speed into gunfire. When they finally burst through the door to the stairs, she let out an exasperated breath.

"Second floor," said Dr. Habegger and he sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time. Their footsteps echoed around the quiet tower, and Moyra tripped a few times, plunging onto the rail for support. As they neared the exit to the second floor, a loud bang erupted from above them. Moyra looked up long enough to hear garbled radio dialogue and the tips of several rifles appeared over the rail, spiraling down the stairs. She felt a hand grab her and she was flung through the door which slammed shut.

Dr. Habegger rammed a chair underneath the door handle. "Down the hallway to the left," he said as he wedged it tight. "Run!" Moyra lept up and sprinted.

The hallways were made of steel similar to the containment ward and there was nothing obvious to point her in the right direction. She turned left, and the security station appeared in front of her sectioned by thick glass windows and a red sign above. She blasted through the door and two guards caught her before she collapsed on the floor.

A few moments later, Dr. Habegger rushed through the door, and the two guards slammed it closed behind him. "Drop the shield!" Dr. Habegger gasped through heavy breaths.

"We can't do that yet," said one of the guards. "We still don't know what's happening on the upper levels─"

"Everyone's dead on the upper levels!" said Dr. Habegger. The guard looked at him wide-eyed. "It's another Synchronicity Event. The whole compound is breached. Close the damn doors!"

The guard backed up slowly, then slammed his hand down on a large red button on the control panel. The flashing yellow lights turned to red, and there was a huge clunk as a heavy steel door slowly descended in front of the windows.

Dr. Habegger sighed heavily, and unwittingly Moyra felt herself relax as well. She leaned against a filing cabinet and rested her head back against the cool metal.

"They're sending in F.E.A.R, and probably Delta Force," said Dr. Habegger over the sound of the machinery. "We'll wait for confirmation from them before we try to open the doors again." The guards murmured an agreement.

Moyra stared entranced as the steel door slowly blocked out the windows. "Who is it?" she said finally. "Who's attacking us?"

Dr. Habegger glared at her. "Who's attacking us?" he said. "I'll tell you who's attacking us. The entire god damn Replica battalion!" He waved his hands in the air. "Fifteen-hundred mindless clones all in one convenient location! And now the prototype is doing exactly what he's trained to do. He's gonna kill everyone in this place, and probably more once he makes it out of the compound. Fairport is gonna have one hell of a war on their hands…"

Moyra gazed at the floor. The Replica army… a thousand puppet soldiers without minds of their own. And Paxton was controlling them. It was exactly what he'd warned during the illusion. Moyra put a trembling hand to her mouth. Thousands of people were dying. She thought of Sabrina and her last fearful glance as she was pushed down the hallway towards the gunshots. Christ, what had Moyra done?

"Charles," said Moyra. "There's something I need to─"

A thundering blast shook the room, and a cloud of dust floated up from the gap between the descending shield and the floor. Moyra flung her hands out as she fell on her side, and she instinctively curled into a ball. The guards were yelling to eachother, but over their yells screeched the sound of heavy metal. The whole facility seemed to be falling apart. Moyra clenched her eyes shut as bits of equipment and stacks of files fell on top of her. Any moment she expected something would crush her fatally, and she bit back frightened gasps as she anticipated a killing blow.

The shaking stopped and the dust settled. Moyra opened her eyes and looked up.

A huge hole had opened in the center of the blast door. There was something standing in front of it. Something huge. As she struggled to see it clearly, the object raised an arm.

"Stop right there!" The guards raised their pistols. Moyra flinched as the room exploded in gunfire. The two guards flailed and fell backwards. In the haze of smoke, several figures entered the room, their radios sounding off in static. Moyra's heart raced. Replica soldiers.

She inched backward against the filing cabinet which had tipped over. They hadn't seen her yet. White beams from their flashlights panned left and right as they searched. For a heartwrenching moment, Moyra wanted to curl back into a ball and hide away the last few moments of her life. She was so exposed. One of the light beams was bound to drift towards her and light her up like a cornered animal.

But something inside her kept her from moving. She shivered as she watched the soldiers move closer to her through the jumbled station. A powerful guilt began to creep through her, and she straightened herself. All of this was her fault. She had no idea how many other people had died, or the extent of the damage to the compound but if it was anything similar to her situation, then by all means, maybe she deserved to die. She didn't think she was so susceptible to bribery, considering she had dished out her fair share of persuasion. Perhaps she had wanted this. She wanted Paxton to destroy the facility, and kill everyone in it.

Christ. Paxton had turned her into a monster. No… that wasn't true. Moyra felt a deep fear claw at her nerves, and she felt cold sweat break onto her forehead. Paxton hadn't made her a monster. She was already a monster before the illusion. Before she felt any kind of pity for the imprisoned Psions. Before she even worked at Armacham. And she deserved to die like a monster.

A beam of light jolted towards her, and everything turned white. Moyra braced herself.

"Visual!" shouted a garbled voice.

"Get off me!" There was crashing several feet away from her. "God-damnit, let go! You sons of bitches!"

The flashlight lowered and Moyra's vision slowly returned.

Three figures were struggling, two of them gripping the third around the arms. As Moyra fought to make sense of it all, she realized Dr. Habegger had survived the blast. He thrashed with his legs as the two soldiers forced him to kneel.

Moyra looked up at the soldier in front of her. His rifle was lowered, although he held the flashlight steady. He seemed to not be breathing. Cautiously, Moyra rose to her feet. For a mad second, she contemplated running for the door, but she couldn't risk it against the soldier's reflexes which she knew were far superior than hers. She straightened her shoulders and gazed at the struggling men.

"You're all going to be exterminated!" Dr. Habegger groaned as he finally sank to his knees. "Do you hear me? You brainless fucks!" He stopped moving as he noticed Moyra. "Moyra…" Dr. Habegger clenched his fists. "Moyra, I'm sorry about all this. I'm so sorry…"

There was a scramble outside the giant steel door, and the giant figure slowly stepped aside. The silhouette of a thinner man appeared against the light.

Moyra strained to see against the haze, and her heart nearly stopped. She pressed her back against the wall.

Paxton strode slowly like a man who had no clue that he was in a warzone. His expression made Moyra shiver. His grey eyes were bright and full of power. Wet blood stains patterned his jacket, and he'd added a leather holster and a radio to his belt. As he passed through the room, the soldiers stepped aside, clearing the way like slaves. Moyra barely recognized him. He wasn't the same desperate man she'd last seen prostrate and unconscious on the floor. He was a killer.

Paxton stopped in front of Dr. Habegger, resting his hands behind his back and smiling softly. "Hello Doctor."

"Fettel…" Dr. Habegger gasped. "You won't get away with this. The government's got the whole U.S army after you. Even if you make it out of the compound, you won't get ten feet─"

Paxton kneeled suddenly and there was a flash of silver as Paxton held a large field knife to his own lips, mimicking a hushing gesture. Moyra felt her stomach plunge and she forced herself not to look away.

"I hear you know some things about Rammelmeier Industrial Compound," said Paxton quietly. "Or rather, about Project Origin."

Dr. Habegger's mouth opened and closed. His eyes were wild. "I can't─ there's nothing─ Project Origin was shut down…" He straightened his shoulders. "You'll never make it there. We moved you far away from that hellhole because your bitch of a mother turned you homicidal. You think getting there and letting your useless mom out of her fishtank is going to bring Armacham down? We planned on that years ago!" He flexed his shoulders against the soldiers holding him back. "We pulled the plug on her! She's dead! And even if you managed to synchronize with her Psionic signature, it's just _you_, Paxton Fettel! You against the entire country!"

Dr. Habegger breathed heavily. Moyra felt shivers of anticipation run through her body. For a moment, there was only silence.

"I didn't ask you where," said Paxton, spinning the knife in his fingers. "I'm asking who." Paxton rose slowly to a standing position. "Get up."

Dr. Habegger's hands flexed over and over again. He looked quickly at Moyra. "Moyra, whatever he says, don't listen to him. Don't tell him anything, you hear?"

"Ms. Welch has already provided me more than enough information, given her talents," said Paxton. Moyra tensed up. She wasn't prepared for the look of shock that Dr. Habegger gave her.

"You… you what…" Dr. Habegger stammered. Moyra struggled to speak. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. He didn't understand. Paxton made her do it. He forced her into the illusion and blackmailed her into helping him. Sure, she wanted retribution against Armacham and a better life for the Psions trapped in the compound, but she hadn't wanted this slaughter. Had she?

She looked at Paxton. The hunger had left his eyes. For a moment, she thought she was looking at the frightened man locked away in his cell. He hadn't wanted this either. He told her he didn't. And there he was, covered in blood with a knife in hand and surrounded by mindless killers. He was beyond the point of no return. They'd both shared the consciousness that drove this madness to occur… but who was the real monster?

Moyra gazed at Dr. Habegger, a cloud forming in her mind. She softened her throat. "You should stand up."

Dr. Habegger wobbled slightly on his knees. Slowly, he rose, the guards holding tightly on his arms.

Paxton stepped closer to him, raising the knife. "Who killed my mother?" he asked quietly. "Who killed Alma Wade?"

Dr. Habegger shook his head. "She killed herself the minute she synced with you when you were a child─" He cried out as the knife nicked his cheek leaving a line of red.

"There were three people in the Vault," said Paxton, his voice growing stronger. "One was Harlan Wade, and there was a man and a woman. What are their names?"

Dr. Habegger shook with silent sobs. "I don't know… I wasn't there…" Again he yelped as the knife cut into his other cheek. "Christ! I don't know!"

"I believe you do," said Paxton, the hungry gleam returning. "Don't anticipate a pleasant ending if you refuse to tell me."

Dr. Habegger looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. "Fuck you and your whole fucked up family."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Moyra held her breath, her mind racked with tension. Paxton's hungry gleam froze, then he plunged the knife to the hilt in Dr. Habegger's shoulder.

Moyra screamed and threw her hands up to her face. In between her fingers, she saw Dr. Habegger scramble slightly, groaning in shock. Paxton drew out the blade quickly, drips of blood landing on his face. His expression was murderous now, his eyes bright with hatred. As he prepared to stab again, he froze suddenly.

Moyra forced herself to keep watching, choking down sobs that threatened to escape her throat. Paxton hovered over Dr. Habegger, a strange look of surprise on his face. He licked the corner of his mouth, drawing in a smear of blood. Dr. Habegger's breathing was labored and heavy, and he hunched slightly as

Paxton stared incredulously at him. Slowly, Paxton raised the bloody blade to his own mouth and delicately ran his tongue along the flat edge, closing his eyes as though he were trying out a new cuisine. Dr. Habegger watched him, wide-eyed.

Paxton stood motionless, his eyes closed. Finally, he opened them and looked at Dr. Habegger. The corner of his mouth peaked in a wicked smile.

"No!" Dr. Habegger screamed, but he was drowned out as Paxton snarled and descended on him, grabbing either side of the doctor's head and ripping into his cheek with bared teeth.

Moyra flung her head around, clenching her eyes shut and feeling her heart hammering in her chest. Whatever she had been prepared for, it hadn't been that. Her stomach churned as she listened to the sounds of Dr. Habegger's muffled screams and the crunch of bone. She couldn't hold back her terrified sobs as she shook in fear. Dr. Habegger's voice faded and soon there was only a scuffle and the steady drip of blood on the floor.

She gasped with each breath, struggling to gain control of herself. She was a part of this now, whatever it was. She'd have to get used to being a monster.

There was a crunching of boots behind her, and as she regained composure, she felt a knuckle under her chin and she turned her head. Paxton's mouth was shiny and crimson, with streams of blood running down his neck. He gazed into her eyes, his nose barely an inch away from hers.

"I need you to find someone at Armacham for me," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

The towering citiscape trickled down to smaller buildings and a grid-like network of streets, which in turn became scattered and winding. For a while, Joe wondered if they were actually leaving Fairport. He held on to a handle as he leaned over in his seat to look out the open helicopter door, the rushing wind whipping his dark hair around. He wasn't used to seeing such open rolling hills absent of buildings. It made him even more unnerved on top of the apprehension of being on a high-priority mission. He leaned back into the helicopter and flexed his shoulders a bit. Too much space.

Jin and Spencer sat across from him. Spencer stared absent-mindedly out the open door, his goggles obscuring his eyes. Jin held her sniper rifle in front of her with the barrel pointed up and the butt resting on the steel floor. She fingered it nervously.

"You alright?" Joe yelled over the roar of the helicopter. She nodded quickly, strength returning to her expression. She wasn't one to express her concerns, and Joe knew better than to pry. Although Joe had been on the team for three months, he wasn't prepared for the seriousness of the briefing. Betters was always in a serious mood; that much hadn't changed. But Spencer's friendly sneer was replaced by tense lips and his eyes widened. Jin gripped her elbows hard and stared at Betters as though she were hanging onto every word. One thing was clear: this was the most important mission assigned to F.E.A.R to date.

It couldn't be much different than the other breaches they'd had to clean up. Sure, this wasn't a little girl with the ability to melt other humans. Whoever this Paxton Fettel was, he had one hell of a grudge. And a battalion of Replica soldiers.

During the briefing, Betters had explained the situation with emphasis on neutralization and the safety of Fairport as he flicked through pictures of Fettel on the projector screen, and Joe stared at the photos. He didn't recognize the man, although he couldn't be sure if that was to do with his erased memory. It was strange to look at the face of an Armacham Psion who'd been the subject of experiments his whole life. Joe tried not to think about his own history which he suspected was probably just as twisted as whatever this man had lived through. As far as he was concerned, his life began the moment he stepped into F.E.A.R headquarters.

"Den Mother, we have visual on point-of-entry," the static voice rang through Joe's earpiece. "Permission to set down the bird, over."

Joe gazed through the open door and scanned the landscape. The sweeping forests had given way to rocky hills, plunging the terrain into treacherous valleys. The city was now a mere twinkle against the faraway horizon. After searching the stone features, he spotted a strange alcove in the mountain, dotted by hundreds of windows, giant steel gates and winding concrete pathways. Red lights flashed against the walls of the bunker, and Joe could see dozens of men running in groups from one armored vehicle to another.

_Permission denied. Proceed with air-to-ground transfer._

The pilot turned in his seat, and Joe imagined a worried look on the pilot's face behind his helmet. "Sorry guys, looks like this is a round trip for me. Good luck out there. And don't let Delta Force give you too much trouble."

Joe stood up, hanging onto the handle for support as the helicopter trembled in turbulence. The ground swooped up below them as they descended, and the details of the area came into clearer view. He kicked the line out.

"The trick is to _not_ fracture your legs into your hips when you hit the ground," Spencer called behind him, and Joe looked around to see Spencer stick a pellet of pink gum in his mouth and chew with a goofy grin. Jin shouldered her rifle over her back like a sword and blinked dully. As they all reached up to turn on their comm-links, Joe was greeted with the crackling sound of Spencer's chewing.

"Move out!" said Jin. Joe held onto the rope with both gloved hands and jumped backwards out of the helicopter. A few lighter-than-air moments and his boots hit the ground. He darted to the side as Spencer landed next to him and then Jin, moving forward as the helicopter rose into the air.

They started towards the massive alcove, voices and machinery echoing all around them. As they neared what appeared to be the main entrance, a group of soldiers rushed to them. They carried heavy black rifles in their hands and wore patches depicting a combat knife with a triangle and a lightning bolt. The first soldier halted in front of Jin and threw up his right hand in a quick salute.

"About time you got here," said the soldier, turning and walking with them towards the great steel gates. "We've got most of the upper floors secured but there's not much left. Place looks like some kind of god-damn research facility or something."

"Are all the exits secure?" said Jin. The soldier shook his head.

"Armacham won't give us a layout of the place. Something to do with 'jeopardizing their research.' Assholes." He hooked his rifle in his arm. "Their _research_ is a battalion of fucking super-soldiers, but I guess if someone wins the Nobel Prize, they don't give a damn."

Joe looked up as they passed through the steel gate. The cavern was lined with a mix of old and new technology. Rusted metal beams criss-crossed the walls, and dark passageways disappeared into the rocky depths. The edges of the cavern were blocked by white cement walls and shiny steel bars which led to a heavy platform sectioned off by rails. If Armacham had been trying to hide the facility, they weren't doing a very good job.

"The captain said to take this down to the docking station," said the soldier, pausing outside the rails as they stepped onto the platform. "We think that's where the signal source is. If you guys are right and the Replicas are responding to one source then we might actually be going home in time for an Independence Day barbecue." He smiled at them.

"Keep hoping," said Jin as she pressed a button on the dial. "Nothing's ever simple with Armacham."

There was a heavy clunk and the platform slid at a diagonal angle downwards through a tunnel ringed with lights. As they descended, the noises from the surface faded and there was only the steady hum of the elevator.

Joe held his assault rifle and felt the familiar tension build. Somehow this felt like the previous mission. It was too easy. The platform passed through rings of stations blocked by heavy doors with numbers written on them. He hoped the docking station wasn't too far beneath the ground.

There was a soft pop as Spencer blew a bubble, and then crackling rang through the comm. Spencer leaned against the rails nonchalantly, rifle hanging from the crook of his arm. Joe adjusted his earpiece and stared at him. It was a few moments before he realized Jin was also staring.

Spencer tapped his foot as he glanced between the two of them. "Pretty deep hole, huh?"

Jin stepped forward, adjusted the rifle strap over her shoulder and holding her hand up with her palm facing the ceiling. "Spit it out," she said bluntly.

"_What_─ this is my last piece!" Spencer shrank back from her.

Jin glared at him with menacing eyes. "Spit."

"Betters said it was either gum or cigarettes," said Spencer. He cocked his head sideways. "You don't want me to die from cancer, do you?"

"I'm not going to listen to you chew your gum for the rest of this mission," said Jin. "Spit it out now."

"Joe, back me up, man," said Spencer, turning to him. "Will you stand up for chewing gum rights?" Joe flicked a hand up to his earpiece and shifted it slightly while giving him a sad smile out of the corner of his mouth. Spencer wasn't going to get him this time.

Spencer's shoulders fell. "Is this because I kissed your girlfriend? Man, I gave you plenty of warning─"

A loud crunch of metal rang through the tunnel, and the platform rocked to one side throwing them all sideways. Joe dropped to his stomach and grabbed on to the nearest rail as steam billowed out one of the pipes along the wall. He shot a glance sideways to see Jin and Spencer each hugging the rail. Spencer's eyes were wild, and frantically he spit out his pink wad of gum.

Before Joe could move, he felt a sickening plunge in his gut as the platform began to screech down the tunnel freely, sending sparks flying above them. His body felt weightless, and his head spun. What the hell was happening..?

He hit the floor suddenly as a loud hissing erupted from underneath the platform. He immediately readjusted his grip on the rail and held on so tightly he thought his knuckles would burst. His weight grew heavier and heavier as their descent slowed, and he fought to slow his breathing down. So much for an easy entry. He doubted he would ever feel comfortable in an elevator again.

The platform clunked to a complete stop, and Joe heard rustling behind him.

"Jesus Christ! Let's move!"

There was no time to hesitate. Joe let go of the rail and sprinted down the sloped platform. The elevator had stopped about three feet below the floor of a station, and he took a running jump, locking his elbows on the edge. The platform gave another ominous screech, and he felt his heart race. If he let go now, he was dead.

Spencer dropped in front of him and gripped Joe's arms as he pulled. "Come on!" Spencer shouted, and Joe swung his legs hard, swinging himself up onto the deck. Below him, metal crashed from side to side, echoing further and further down the tunnel until it was silent.

For a while, Joe simply laid on his back with his eyes closed, heaving. The jittery adrenaline slowly drained from his body. "What─" he gasped "─ the _fuck_ ─ happened?"

"The cable snapped," said Jin a few feet from him. Her voice was shaky. "Fucking two-foot thick cable…"

"Where the hell are we?" said Spencer. "There's not even any numbers on this door."

"We'll just have to take the central elevator back up to the docking station," said Jin. "No signal down here. Great."

"Fuck the elevators," said Joe, climbing unsteadily to his feet. "I'm taking the stairs."

The station looked just like the others they had passed, but on this door there were no numbers; only the letters "CA." He shifted his shoulder so his rifle swung on its strap back into his hand. He looked at the other two. Spencer had his rifle ready, though his eyes were still wide and frightened, and Jin held her pistol ready in both hands. Joe turned to the door and opened it wide.

The open door revealed a wide concrete corridor lined with metal doors. The overhead lights flickered on and off with faint buzzing. Debris littered the stained hallway, and some of the doors were burst open and hanging off their hinges. As Joe stepped forward, he heard a faint moaning from somewhere far up ahead.

"Well fuck me," said Spencer. "Why'd I think this would be easy?"

"Keep your voice down," said Jin. "We have no idea what kinds of experiments Armacham was running. Let's just make it to the stairs."

Joe stepped into the hallway slowly, panning his rifle side to side in whichever direction he looked. His boots crunched softly over the broken tile and he touched on his reflexes. He passed by the first few open doors, scanning inside and fully expecting something to launch itself at him.

As they neared the end of the hallway, the moaning suddenly stopped. Joe paused and heard his two teammates stop behind him. Something was coming down the hallway to his left. He couldn't help the fearful anticipation that built in his chest. He gripped his gun tighter and waited. The shuffling grew louder. Then something appeared around the corner.

It was a twisted figure in ripped orange clothes. At some point, it might have been a man. But he was horribly deformed. He bulged at odd angles along his sides and his skin looked to be burned. The figure shuffled forward and turned its head toward him. Joe felt his adrenaline spike again. The man's eyes were… wrong. They were reptilian, staring in different directions and far too high up on his forehead. The man's jaw dropped and he let out a moan. He turned and ambled towards Joe, and the moan became a shriek.

Joe fired his rifle before he could even comprehend the situation. Behind him, flashes of orange let him know that Spencer and Jin were firing as well. The figure stumbled and crashed to the floor, his appendages waving like a dying bug. As the room went quiet, Joe stared in disbelief at the dead man. This was impossible. Under his normal human arms, the man had two twisted and deformed arms.

Spencer stepped next to him and shook his head. "You've got to be fucking kidding─"

Something flew out of the open room next to him, wailing as it collided with Spencer and knocking him sideways. As Joe bolted forward, he realized it was an emaciated woman, barely clothed except for an orange shirt and underwear. She pounded on Spencer's arms with her fists as she screamed.

Joe grabbed a fistful of the woman's hair and wrenched her backwards off of him, throwing her onto the floor and pointing his rifle at her. After a quick look at the woman's mouthful of pincer-like teeth so large that she could hardly close her mouth, Joe fired his rifle with a loud pop and the woman fell limp on the ground.

"Christ!" Spencer screamed behind him. "Fuck being quiet─ let's just get the hell out of here!"

"Turn right down the hallway," said Jin, pointing to the broken signs on the wall. "Let's go."

Joe jogged in front, rifle at the ready and trying not to think of what else was hiding in the rooms beside him. Something skittered to his left and he used his reflexes prematurely, his pace slowing and the sounds around him dropping low as if a record player had been slowed, and then sped up again as the reflex wore off. He shook his head lightly. He had to be more careful.

They rounded another corner and the elevator doors appeared at the end of the hall. Joe felt a slight rise of relief; they were almost to the stairs. He quickened his pace to a slow run, and the elevators drew nearer. The sooner they were out of this nightmare, the better.

There was a ping, and the elevator doors suddenly creaked open. Joe stopped, sliding on his boots, rifle pointed straight ahead. The elevator was pitch dark.

"Got your light?" asked Joe. No one replied. He glanced quickly behind him without moving his rifle. Jin and Spencer were gone, a soft flutter of black ashes falling to the floor where they should have been.

Joe felt his gut wrench. This couldn't be happening. Not again. He forced himself to stay steady, keeping his rifle pointed firmly ahead. There was nothing else to indicate that he was in an illusion, unlike before when he'd been in a fiery void. Faint whispers echoed from inside the elevator car, and he thought he saw something move within the shadows. He took no chances. He fired his rifle.

Nothing happened. It was as though his gun had jammed, except it made no sound at all. Piercing frustration shot through him. He was completely at the mercy of whatever illusion he was in.

The whispering grew louder. Joe stared straight ahead, and his frustration was taken over by dread. Something was leaving the elevator. He could hardly discern any shape, although it began to take form as it stepped near him. He watched as it morphed; a small hunched shape growing taller and thinner. Arms like sticks stretched to the ground and legs with knobbly knees… hair that hung low obscuring the figure's face…

Joe took a step back, his heart pounding. The figure stumbled slightly as it moved, its head twitching oddly. It stepped toward him, long arms dragging on the floor. As it neared, Joe felt his muscles shake. He couldn't move or look away partly out of fear, but he also suspected he was forcibly paralyzed. He wasn't getting out of it this time.

The figure slowly raised its arms, and a low gasp escaped its unseen mouth. Joe tensed his body as he prepared to be grabbed. Knobbly fingers waved in front of him and the hair began to fall back from its face. Joe gritted his teeth. He hoped there would be no pain.

The figure fell forward. Suddenly the limbs shrank, the darkness drifted away, and Joe was surprised by a flash of gold. He stumbled back slightly as a woman gripped the front of his body armor. He struggled to make sense of what happened. The figure was nowhere to be seen, and the elevator was bright with light. He felt a sweeping relief as he heard Spencer behind him.

"Whoa…. what the hell just…"

Joe gripped the woman's shoulders and pushed her away from him. Her green eyes were wide, and there was a smudge of red under her chin. He was still jittery from the tension, and it took him a while to realize the woman was speaking quickly.

"He's going to Armacham headquarters," the woman stammered. "Paxton Fettel. He's going to kill Harlan Wade."


	13. Chapter 13

When he was young, Paxton became lost during one of his daily yard excursions. One of the guards had carelessly left the gate unlocked, and Paxton found himself wandering through unfamiliar hallways and strange laboratories decorated with intricate tools. It was frightening at first as he quickly lost track of where he was heading, but it was replaced by an overwhelming sense of power. He could go anywhere. And he could do whatever he wanted. There was no one to tell him to stop, don't touch that, leave that be, don't go in there… For once in his life, he was in control.

But it was nothing compared to this.

Paxton tilted his head back in the breeze and closed his eyes, feeling the blood dry and crack against his neck. The air was crisp and fresh, unlike the filtered air that pumped through the compound. They were a few thousand feet above ground headed into the sunset towards the city, and although Paxton had piloted helicopters dozens of times through synchronization, he'd never physically experienced the act of flying. The sun pierced the pink clouds in ribbons, casting long black shadows over the uneven terrain and plunging the deep crevices into darkness. Shining white rivers wound through the forest like roots and disappeared into the horizon. There was so much land. So much space.

From the co-pilot seat, he could see the stretch of helicopters following at his right, angled back in formation and wavering slightly up and down through the turbulence. He could feel each and every soldier, puppeted as if by long invisible strings. In training, the doctors warned him of the power he would have, but what they hadn't told him was how easy this would be. The scientists at the compound were weak and terrified, making them easy targets. The guards were no better, having been trained against violent intruders, not highly trained soldiers. He'd left a handful of Replica soldiers behind to draw attention from the barracks and arsenal, and by the time he'd felt the strings slip away from them, the rest of the battalion was either in the air or following below in armored assault vehicles.

Part of him hadn't wanted to leave Moyra behind. Although she was plenty skilled to maneuver her way through Armacham security, her Psionic ability was unique and invaluable to him as a means of penetrating Armacham. She was still afraid, that much he was sure of when he explained her task. She could very well abandon him, but Paxton sensed there was something else underneath her fear. A cold hunger, thriving on pain and suffering. A desire for death. She wanted Paxton to kill Dr. Habegger. And in that moment, as he ripped the flesh from Dr. Habegger's skull as easily as tearing the peel off an orange…

Paxton saw it. The cold steel room sectioned by control stations and facing a large spherical cryostasis tank through a clear pane. A host of other memories followed─ a graduation ceremony, shaking hands with a man in glasses, sitting across from a small black-haired boy with a notepad in hand, and one particular memory that seemed to repeat over and over: three figures huddled together as they argued over something important. Something regarding Alma. Their names rang clearly in his mind, as though he'd known all along and simply forgotten it. The people who'd imprisoned Paxton his whole life, and murdered his mother.

And he was heading straight for them.

The city loomed up from the darkness as the sky melted from purple to orange. They passed between the pillar-like buildings, and Paxton bowed his head and pinched his eyes shut. So many people, bustling through the streets like ants and completely unaware of what was happening. Each living soul ignited a flame in his mind, and Paxton struggled to sort through the crowd. It wasn't easy; the memory was old and faded, and finding one man among tens of thousands drained him of his energy. His invisible fingers groped through the city like a flood, touching each chatting man, crying child, laughing woman. Paxton grit his teeth as he searched. He had to be here. Somewhere.

His consciousness flooded through the tall skyscrapers, and a particular flame caught his attention. He sensed an older man with similar greed, contempt, and spite as the man from his memories. Paxton's heart nearly stopped. The darkness in his mind rumbled in acknowledgement. There was no mistake. It was the same man.

Paxton was brought back to his body with a jolt as his helicopter swayed in the direction of the source. There was a roar around him, and the squad of helicopters followed, rushing towards a shiny group of squat buildings.

The world stopped moving as Paxton's helicopter slowed and several choppers flew ahead, hovering low over the largest of the buildings. Ropes were tossed out, and the Replica soldiers jumped out in single file, guns at the ready. Paxton watched them disappear into the building at different entrances, feeling their tethers tighten and whip. Some of them were firing their weapons. Others were running deep into the building. Paxton closed his eyes and drove a single piercing thought through the tethers:_ find him._

He stood up as his helicopter moved forward again. A feather-light feeling floated in his stomach as the helicopter descended low above the flat roof, and he rocked unsteadily as it hovered. Several Replica soldiers lept out of the chopper, and then he let go of the handle to jump into the sunlight, slightly relieved when he landed on the solid roof. The soldiers had broken open the double doors, and he passed into the building, stretching his senses as he searched.

Replica soldiers criss-crossed the hallways in front of him, mumbling garbled directions to one another. Some people were still alive. A woman was struggling to grasp the situation to his left beneath her desk. A bleeding young man to his right desperately held on to thoughts of his son as his mind slipped away. More still ran in panic floors below him. It was all a jumble… thoughts darting in every direction. As if the thousands of minds hadn't been tough to sort through, they now swirled amongst themselves like startled insects in a jar. Paxton probed the area he'd last located the target, but the man had vanished. He relaxed his shoulders and sighed. This was going to be difficult.

Paxton swept down the hallway, boots crunching over the broken glass and wood. The floors pounded behind him along with the sound of clicking gear as Replica soldiers followed him. He flexed his senses, forcing his mind through every crack in the building in the hopes he would catch the familiar flame again. If people would just stop panicking… he heard a loud pop behind him and the young woman's mind vanished. That was a start.

He rounded a corner and suddenly felt a pang of surprise. He spun sideways just in time to avoid the gunshot that knocked one of the following Replica soldiers backwards.

"Don't move!" a voice called from around the corner. "Toss your weapons into the hall where I can see them!"

Paxton pressed his back against the wall and breathed slowly. He felt the tether to his wounded Replica soldier snap, and the soldier stopped moving. He shouldn't have let himself become so distracted so quickly. He reorganized his thoughts and pressed them outward. There were five guards down the hall.

"Will you allow me a moment?" called Paxton, zipping his jacket up to his collar. "It may take my soldiers a while to give you _all_ their weapons."

"Cut the shit! Come around the corner with your hands up!" There was a tremble in the guard's voice that made Paxton smile slightly, the blood on his face peeling.

Paxton raised his hands to shoulder-height and stepped slowly around the corner, testing the strings to his Replica soldiers still waiting down the hall. As he gazed at the poised guards they shifted slightly, no doubt disturbed by his blood-covered face. Paxton walked slowly towards them, probing each of their minds. They were rattled with fear.

One of the guards stepped forward, his pistol shaking slightly in his hands. "Order your men to stand down."

Paxton shot his gaze at each guard, withdrawing his consciousness. He would need a lot of focus for this. He looked at the forward guard, and sneered. "They're not men."

He grabbed the guard's wrist and flung the pistol sideways, gripping the man's neck and clenching so the guard arched back and screamed. Two guards fired their weapons at once, but their shots scattered as Paxton shoved the man towards them. He moved quickly, forming tactics in the scrambled confusion. He darted for the nearest guard and rolled over the guard's back, catching the man's pistol arm and wrenching backwards with him as his feet made contact with the ground and pulled the man's arm at a twisted angle with a loud snap.

Still gathering momentum, he spun towards a guard who raised a pistol at him. He caught the man's hand and rolled into him, pulling the gun towards the other guards as it fired over and over again. Not waiting to see if that had killed them, Paxton cracked the guard's jaw with his elbow and twisted sideways, flipping the man over his shoulder onto the ground.

He regained composure with his hands forward and his knees slightly bent for another attack. The guards lay in a groaning pile. As he rocked with each heavy breath, he suddenly felt a rush of excitement. That hadn't just been easy─ it was amazing. Far more exhilarating than his training. He doubted he would ever stop being amazed at what he could do now that he was in control.

He strode forward and gathered the strings of his soldiers who rushed around the corner. The first guard was squirming away, and two others scrambled to their fallen weapons. Paxton reached low and gripped the guard's neck, heaving him into a standing position as the guard sputtered and choked. As the two remaining guards sat up, the room rattled with gunfire and they jolted back down peppered with holes.

The guard clawed at Paxton's arm with desperate fingers, his eyes growing wild as he gasped for breath. Paxton observed him carefully, a giddy anticipation growing in his gut. Before the guard could speak, Paxton swung his fist into the man's face, digging his fingers into the man's flesh and ripping part of his face away to reveal shiny white bone, half of a toothy grin, and a round staring eyeball.

He tossed the freshly bleeding guard aside, and held the fistful of bloody flesh in his fist. He brought it to his mouth and gnashed a chunk away, the fresh blood rejuvenating the dried and cracked blood as it ran down either side of his chin. It was just as it had been before. Paxton closed his eyes against the wave of memories. They tingled through his nerves, igniting unfamiliar voices and flashes of places that Paxton recognized as the same building. The voices grew louder.

"... insane. We need to get you out of here, sir!"

"I'm ending this. Right now. She should have listened to me. Well, by God, this time she'll pay." A foggy scene rolled through Paxton's mind as he saw a grey-haired man disappear behind a door that clicked shut. At that moment, he felt the man's consciousness stand bright against the thousands of writhing human minds. How could he have missed it? The memories faded with the meager bit of flesh, and Paxton opened his eyes. He knew exactly where to go.

He flung the bleeding tissue down at the gurgling guard, and turned quickly to head back out into the hallway. The Replica soldiers ran ahead of him, rifles raised. Paxton locked his mind on that little flame, clenching his senses around it so tightly he thought it might burn out. There was nowhere to hide now.

Paxton quickened his steps, sending his guards up the stairway before him. There was a shout and scramble, and several shots echoed through the building as the Replica soldiers fired without stopping. They turned down one corridor and then another, passing by glass windows and grid-like cubicles where people gazed at the armed soldiers with terrified eyes. As they neared the executive office, Paxton felt the man's consciousness grow brighter. Stronger. A streak of excitement shot through him. After twenty years, he finally had him. The darkness inside him was nearly roaring with pleasure.

They paused outside a large set of double oak doors. The Replica soldiers parted and Paxton stepped forward, his mind sizzling. With trembling hands, he grabbed the handles and forced the doors open.

They revealed a spacious room, walled by large windows that looked over the glittering city. Cabinets lined the textured walls and a square fishtank splashed blue and white ripples of light against a large executive desk which faced them. There was no one in sight.

Paxton stepped forward through the dancing blue light and headed towards the window. It was so large, he could jump through it easily─ very different than the little porthole windows he was used to in his cell. The city churned far down below him. He was so high above the city. So exposed. And yet the feeling of power was hard to ignore. This… Paxton felt a shiver of excitement. This is what it must feel like to be king.

A tiny whimper caught his attention. He turned his head slowly from the bright lights of the bustling city, and locked eyes with a trembling man crouched underneath the desk. The dark consciousness rippled and lashed, and Paxton could almost see the shadowy tentacles stretching out as if reaching for the pathetic man. He felt his face involuntarily crinkle.

"Hello, Senator," he said.


	14. Chapter 14

Armacham was everything. The schools, the restaurants, the housing communities… even the very people of Fairport. Jin couldn't think of a place that didn't pay its respects to those three connected diamonds. The city pulsed with the essence of Armacham that seeped down under the skin and shackled the soul. No one came to Fairport, and no one left Fairport. In fact, Jin suspected that if she tried to escape, she would starve to death without the dose of Armacham.

The return flight came with a refreshing but numb energy as their helicopter passed between the scattered buildings of the city. Night had fallen and the tall pillars twinkled with white lights leaving the city in near-darkness. Armacham headquarters wasn't hard to spot. It was the largest and brightest group of buildings, complete with a large red logo on the central building.

Jin held onto her seat with one hand and her sniper rifle in the other, swaying lightly with the movement of the aircraft. Joe sat next to her and gripped his knees tightly. Over the roar of the helicopter Spencer spoke with the pilot, hands waving wildly in obscure gestures.

"But there was no way we were going back in the elevator, right? We had to climb ten flights of stairs. Ten! You ever carried an assault rifle, two glocks, and about thirty pounds of gear up the stairs at a dead run? My thighs are on fire!"

Across from Jin, the blond woman watched Spencer with blank emerald eyes. Her black sweater and pants were dusted white and torn in places. Jin bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at the woman. She'd given them only her first name: Moyra.

The woman glanced sideways at Jin who quickly looked away, shifting slightly on her seat. There was a subtle malignance about Moyra that Jin couldn't quite place. There was no reason for it; Moyra had barely spoken since they brought her with them to the docking station. Jin had immediately requested a helicopter transport and rendez-vous with Delta Force at Armacham headquarters, and under no circumstances would she ever allow a civilian to travel with them. Yet here she was, a misfit girl in a cheap black uniform amongst so much weaponry. And Jin couldn't for the life of her remember how she'd let Moyra come along. It unnerved her.

The helicopter descended low over the building towards the giant blue H. As Jin peered over the side, Delta Force vehicles skidded to a stop below. There'd been no sign of the Replica battalion since they'd left the compound. Jin crooked her rifle under her arm. This was easier than she'd thought.

The helicopter thumped onto the concrete sending waves of dust outwards. Jin turned to the team. "It looks like Fettel hasn't arrived yet. I want you guys to keep your weapons down unless we have confirmation from HQ. Moyra, Delta Force will take you to Fairport hospital by helicopter. Thank you for the information you provided."

Moyra stood up. "I'm coming with you."

Jin felt a strange fuzziness in her mind. She pushed it aside. "Absolutely not. This is a military operation and you would only disrupt the situation."

Moyra locked eyes with Jin, and Jin saw it. That flicker of power, as though Moyra were daring Jin to stop her. Jin glared back, and fingered the trigger of her rifle. Who did this woman think she was?

"I want to see Harlan Wade," said Moyra. "I'm coming with you."

There was a softness to Moyra's voice that soothed Jin's mind. The sound of the helicopter faded and Jin was overcome by a tingling sensation throughout her body. Her frustration was brushed away, and gentle peace replaced it. Why was she making such an issue out of this? Moyra was just one person. It didn't matter if she came with them or not. Besides, the area was secure.

"Fine," said Jin. "But you stay behind Point." She raised a finger to her ear and spoke into the comm. "Eagleye. No sign of hostiles. Permission to apprehend the subject."

_Permission granted._

Jin turned and made eye-contact with Joe. He nodded and stood up, rifle barrel pointed towards the ground. He jumped out of the helicopter and Jin followed, boots clapping on the bare concrete. Delta Force and F.E.A.R had the area contained, but as Jin saw Moyra out of the corner of her eye, she felt exposed. They were far from safe.

The double glass doors opened as a woman stepped out onto the concrete. She held back her whipping hair against the wind of the helicopter. "What's going on here? Who─"

"This building has been targeted by hostiles from the Perseus Compound," said Jin as she pushed past her. "My group is with First Encounter Assault Recon, and Delta Force is securing the area. Where is Dr. Harlan Wade?"

The woman stared at Jin, her mouth opening and closing. A small pop behind Jin broke the silence, followed by mashed chewing.  
"I… he's in a meeting." The woman glanced at Spencer nervously. "Who's─ what's going on?"

"Conference room," said Moyra. "This way." She flashed Jin a bright blue glance as she stepped away from the group. Jin immediately felt her face burn in frustration. Before she could say a word however, Joe's gloved hand suddenly clenched around Moyra's arm.

Moyra jolted to a stop and turned back to look at him. Joe furrowed his eyebrows at her. "I'm Point," he said. "You don't want to be walking in front of me."

Jin stared at Joe in shock, and Moyra glared at him. "I know where the conference room is," said Moyra, her voice unusually smooth. "I've worked in this building before."

A few tense moments drifted by as Joe's piercing grey eyes stared into Moyra's. As Jin watched, she saw a bead of sweat form on Moyra's forehead.

"No one walks in front of me," said Joe in a deep growl that Jin barely recognized. "If you know where it is, then tell me. But _I walk ahead_."

Moyra's muscles tensed, making her collarbones protrude slightly. Spencer put a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Come on, Moyra, it's safer this way," said Spencer. He nodded his head sideways. "Stay close to me. I won't let anything happen to you."

Jin gazed at him. That was too sincere for Spencer. But as Moyra passed behind him, Spencer gave Jin a quick grin, a sphere of pink between his teeth.

"Wait a second," the woman moved forward. "The meeting is already in session. I can't have you─" The woman grunted as Joe pushed her aside and moved down the hallway. Jin followed behind, sensing Moyra's angry stare on the back of her head.

Moyra directed Joe ahead as they passed down the hallways lined with doors and blue windows. Jin tried to get a glimpse of Joe's face, but his long black hair obscured his expression. He'd never made such a big deal about walking in front before. It was his job, as it was the job of any new recruit of F.E.A.R to walk point. Hardly a job worth being proud of since the point man took the brunt of the combat and was the first to be targeted by enemy soldiers. Yet there'd been a fierceness in his eyes that told Jin whatever spite Joe had for Moyra was far deeper than Jin's power struggle. He would never tell her, of course. She'd had to pry the information out of him after he stood frozen for several seconds in front of the elevator as Moyra staggered to him and grasped the front of his jacket, although Jin suspected by the startled look on his face when he gazed around at them all… he'd seen the black-haired girl again.

They approached a large glass door guarded by two men in blue ATC uniforms. Through the glass, a group of formal-looking people sat in a circle deep in conversation around a large table. The guards stepped forward.

"Whoa, whoa," said one of the guards. They each had a hand on the pistols at their sides. "What's going on here? What outfit are you with?"

"We're with F.E.A.R," said Jin, and the guards glanced at eachother with wide eyes. "You guys had a containment breach at the Perseus Compound. Delta Force has the place on lockdown." Again the guards exchanged curious looks. Jin sighed heavily. "We've been ordered to take Harlan Wade into protective custody."

"Harlan Wade?" The guard scratched the back of his head. "Why? He's having a meeting with the best Psionic researchers and scientists in the country. Hell, even Richard York is in there."

"Harlan Wade has been targeted by Armacham hostiles," said Jin. "We need to get him out of the city and get this building evacuated."  
"What do you mean 'hostiles?'" The guards scrutinized her, and Jin felt her face heat up. "Isn't it your job to round up loose Psions, not play army-soldier?"

White-hot frustration shot through Jin's body. "Just get the hell out─"

"We don't have time for this," said Joe. Before the guards could move, the butt of his rifle slammed into the chest of the first guard who stumbled back against the wall, mouth gaping for air and eyes wild. The other guard shouted in surprise, but his shout was muffled as Joe planted his gloved hand over the guard's face, shoving him backward through the glass door in an explosion of glittering crystals.

The men in the room stood up at once, voices raised. Jin followed Joe into the room in a stunned awe, and behind her she heard Spencer whisper "bad-fucking ass, Joe."

"What's the meaning of this?" a young man shouted over the noise.

"Don't kill us! Please don't kill us!" An older woman ducked underneath the table, her arms over her head.

"I need everyone to stay quiet and listen carefully!" said Jin. Her voice faded in the chatter.

"Are you terrorists?" a man called. "We don't negotiate with terrorists!"

"We're with F.E.A.R," said Jin. "Quiet down!"

The room huddled in groups, arguing amongst themselves and shouting at her. Jin clenched her rifle in exasperation. This was out of control. She looked at Joe, and he gave her a small smile. Easy for him to simply punch his way through an obstacle. She resented being a small woman sometimes, and even more for being team leader. Still, if it took having to create chaos to get a little order…

She raised the rifle under the crook of her arm and blasted the overhead light in an electrical sphere of blue. A low hum rattled the windows and the room went dim as the light burned out. The chatter died instantly, and all eyes focused on Jin in a mixture of fear and interest.

Jin lowered the rifle barrel, pride bubbling in her chest. "Where is Dr. Harlan Wade?" She gazed around the room at each person in turn. A few whispered to eachother, and gathered in tighter groups.

"I'm Harlan Wade."

Jin turned to her left and an older man stepped out of the crowd. His charcoal grey hair matched his bright gray eyes behind thick glasses. His hands were in his white labcoat pockets, and he seemed the only one in the group who wasn't either terrified or angry.

"Dr. Wade," said Jin, and her voice relaxed. "We need to take you into protective custody. Please come with us."

Harlan glanced around at his group members. Jin clenched her rifle, anticipating another shot to the overhead light.

"Well I suppose I can't carry on with this meeting anyways, given that I've lost the attention of my audience," said Harlan. He pushed his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose. "But if I may ask, who am I in danger from?"

"A rogue Psion named Paxton Fettel from Perseus," said Jin. The reaction around the room was mixed. Some people looked at eachother in confusion, others froze with fear in their eyes. Harlan's expression hadn't changed. His eyes moved from Jin to Spencer to Joe. He gazed at Joe for a few seconds in silence, and Jin saw Joe shift slightly out of the corner of her eye. Harlan nodded slowly.

"Of course," he said above a whisper. He sighed. "Of course." He turned to face the room. "In that case, I suggest you all leave the room and seek protection in the lower floors. I hope we can all meet again soon. I enjoyed the insight from each of you." He stepped towards Jin and his gray beard parted in a small smile. "Shall we?"

Jin swung her rifle by the strap over her shoulder and turned back to the hallway. "I'm sorry Doctor, but we are going to have to rush you. The helicopter is waiting on the pad." Jin stopped suddenly as she faced the empty hallway. She turned to Spencer. "Where's Moyra?"

Spencer stared at her blankly, then gazed around as if expecting to see Moyra crouched in a corner or hanging from the ceiling. "I don't know," he said. "I thought she was right behind me."

Jin sighed, but felt a slight rise in relief. "Fuck it. She'll get evacuated with the others." Joe moved ahead, rifle in the crook of his arm, and Jin saw Harlan glance at him briefly before following behind him. Jin couldn't help the curiosity tingle at her nerves. She wondered if Harlan Wade knew something about Joe's history at Armacham. If he did, there was no time to explore that now. Jin moved quickly behind them, their footsteps padding in the carpeted hallway.

"Wish she hadn't bailed on us," said Spencer behind Jin. "Was gonna ask her out to Denny's─"

The building suddenly shook, and the air was suctioned in a violent boom. Joe threw out his arm and raised his rifle in one hand, stopping ahead of them. Jin grabbed at the pistol on her belt. The Replicas couldn't be here. It was impossible. Not with Delta Force swarming down below…

Cries and coughing echoed up ahead as a cloud of dust floated around the corner. Jin strained to see through the dust as it rushed towards them. A shrilled ringing blasted through the building as the sprinklers showered from above. There were no gunshots. No screams. It didn't make sense. If the Replicas hadn't arrived, what caused the explosion?

Harlan pressed up against Joe's arm. He shook his head in shock. "No… no…"

"Let's get moving now," said Jin. She kept a hand on Harlan's shoulder as they walked carefully through the dusty rain. They headed further towards the blast zone, and turned a corner.

Papers drifted down like leaves in the corridor as people held folders and briefcases over their heads against the water. Ahead, a door had been blasted open. As they neared it, Jin saw a mangled and sparking hole where the room should have been. The city glittered below in the darkness.

"Christ…" She turned to Harlan. "Was this your office, Doctor?"

Harlan stared blankly at the chasm. His mouth was slightly open and he trembled slightly. It was the first time Jin had seen any true emotion from him. She squeezed his shoulder. With a jolt, he shook his head.

"No, this was…" he swallowed. "This was Aristide's office." He whispered something and Jin had to move closer to hear him under the sirens. "He actually did it. I didn't believe he would do it. I didn't believe it…"

"Who the fuck is─ was─ Aristide?" said Spencer.

_Incoming transmission from Commissioner Betters._

Jin put a finger to her ear. "Eagleye. Sir, we have Harlan Wade in custody. We're bringing him out to the bird now but there's been an explosion."

"Sounds like you guys are having fun," Betters' garbled voice rang through the comm. "Well, don't get too comfortable. You guys are gonna shit bricks when you see what I found."


End file.
